


Bigger Than Us

by littledaybreaker



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2259249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledaybreaker/pseuds/littledaybreaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine and Kurt broke up years ago and haven't seen each other since. Now Blaine is a single father and a successful blogger, and Kurt is a high-powered magazine executive. What will happen when their lives collide unexpectedly?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Go Away

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally published on FF.Net and Livejournal from September-December of 2011, but I never posted it here. I am re-uploading it here since this is where I primarily post my work now and I (despite having not watched Glee since, well, 2011) have come up with an idea for a sequel, and since this is mainly where I publish now it made sense to preserve Bigger Than Us, in its original form, on this platform. All original authors notes, epigraphs, etc are exactly as they appeared and nothing has been edited or modified to reflect canonical changes, etc. 
> 
> I've made the chapter titles the names of the songs from the epigraphs.

A/N: The idea for this randomly came to my head as I was getting ready to go to work early last week, and it finally came to life in the last few days. This is my first Klaine fic and only my second ever Glee fic, so constructive criticism is always appreciated. I typed ~3/4 of this on my iPad, so there may be slight grammatical construction errors (ie random capitalization or spacing issues). I've given it a look over, but it's so easy to gloss over when it's your own work. If you are interested in betaing future chapters of this piece, please let me know.

_Finally it all made sense_

_I could keep this all from you_

_And I could make a statement based on truth_

_But then it all comes tumbling down_

_So go away, yeah, go away and leave me on my own._

~Eisley,  _"Go Away"_

"Nobody marries their first love. Okay, maybe some people do, but most people don't even have a long term relationship with their first love, let alone get married to them and be with them forever.

And that's just the way life goes. We are flighty, awful creatures, us humans, and when we get bored with one thing-or one person-we move on to the next. Of course eventually we find the person we want to settle down with for the rest of our lives-or think we want to settle down with, anyway-and get married and maybe have a kid or two or twenty. And sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn't, and that, too, is the way life goes.

Sometimes I think it would be easier if we all just married our first love. Not the person you were crazy for for months and they ignored you and completely crushed your heart, but that first person who made you feel like maybe this whole love thing could work for you after all, the first person who filled your heart and soul with more happiness and completeness than you even knew could exist. I mean, they were the first person to make you feel that way, after all, so  _that_  has to account for something, doesn't it?"

Satisfied, Blaine Anderson pushed the publish button on his blog and shut his computer. Annika's school didn't let out for another forty-five minutes, but that meant there would be time for him to stop at Starbucks to surprise her with a hot chocolate when she got in the car. Grabbing his car keys and phone, he headed out the door.

This was not the life he'd imagined for himself when he had graduated high school almost 15 years before. He had graduated with a head full of dreams and an idealistic attitude, the whole world in front of him. And, for at least a little while, it had felt like he was getting there. He had moved to New York, trailing like a lovesick puppy after his high school boyfriend, Kurt Hummel, and while Kurt pursued a career in the cutthroat fashion journalism world, Blaine threw himself headlong into performing. Back then, he had lofty ideas of what their lives would be like. They would be together forever, live in a trendy loft with a Saint Bernard puppy and their three adopted children, and Blaine would be a musician and Kurt would be the editor for Vogue and they would live happily ever after.

But they started seeing less and less of each other, both of them busy with school and work and internships, and then Kurt's friendship with the man he was interning for turned into something more and they-or he-decided that it was better if they weren't together anymore. So Blaine had moved back to Westerville, where he taught music and dance at a private elementary school, and it was there that he had met Alex, the school psychologist, and he healed the scars of Kurt. They married the year after they met and decided to have Annika the year after that, and if Blaine couldn't have a happily ever after with Kurt, well, a happily ever after with Alex seemed like the next best thing.

But as it turned out, marriage and family life wasn't all Alex had imagined it to be, and when Annika was two, he filed for divorce and took off out of their lives completely. This was when Blaine started blogging-it was a way for him to process the pain of losing Alex (and Kurt), the struggles of being a gay single father, and everything else that popped into his head. He hadn't expected anybody (except, perhaps, his grandmother) to read it, but it made him feel better, so he kept writing, and to his surprise, it was a hit. He was soon inundated with ad networks and sponsorships and millions of hits per day, and after a year and a half, he quit his job to write full time. Now, he and Annika were living comfortably and he was being hailed as one of the most influential bloggers of the decade. He had recently been approached about a book deal, and he had several public appearances scheduled for the upcoming year. Maybe it wasn't the way he had pictured his life, but nobody could say that Blaine Anderson hadn't made it.

He hadn't really dated since Alex left, except for a few disastrous set ups that went no further than blog fodder, but after all of this time he could genuinely say he was happy that way. Not that he never thought about it, of course (like today), but he had a beautiful daughter, a successful career, and a happy life. He didn't need anybody right now.

He had just pulled out of the Starbucks drive through when his phone rang, the caller ID displaying the name of his publicist, Nina.

"This is Blaine," he said. "What's up?"

"Blaine, it's Nina," she said. "Listen, I just got a call from Vanity Fair. They're running a piece on stylish and influential mommy bloggers and they want to interview you."

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "I'm not a mommy," he joked, then got serious. "Vanity Fair? Really? They want to interview me?"

"Yes." Nina had on her business voice and was apparently uninterested in Blaine's jokes right now. "if you give the okay, they'll be sending someone out to meet you next week."

"Well, sure!" Blaine pulled into the pick up line at Annika's school, the same school he had taught at just a few short years ago. "I'm not going to say no to Vanity Fair!"

"Great!" Nina said brightly. "I'll call them to let them no. Give Anni a kiss for me."

"Will do." Blaine pressed the end call button, pulling ahead in line. Vanity Fair. What were the chances?

* * *

If there was one thing Kurt Hummel didn't want to be writing about, it was mommy bloggers. He was the executive editor for the life and style department at, so he supposed it came with the territory, but it still seemed like a massive, completely ridiculous, pain in the ass, dealing with ever-so-put together women who thought their styles were "so quirky" who had somehow become millionaires by writing about what little Journey and Madison had eaten for breakfast. They would talk all about how their children were their inspiration and how they felt like people who didn't have children were missing out, while the kids screamed the whole time and the photographer thought about how many photoshop actions would be needed to cover the sheer amount of snot they were producing.

Kurt had wanted children once, but that had been an impossibly long time ago, back when he was a rosy cheeked idealist, back before he had fucked his boss and broken the heart of the only boy who had ever loved him. Sure, he had stayed with Greg for twelve years, even after catching him-on multiple occasions-with other young, rosy cheeked, idealistic interns, but Greg hadn't exactly been the kid type, and by the time he took off to Aruba with Mikey the intern, neither was Kurt.

"Good news," Mona, the senior editor, burst into Kurt's office and through his reverie. "you won't have to interview a mommy blogger after all."

Kurt's eyes lit up. "They scrapped the article?"

"No." Mona handed him a folder. "they want you to interview a daddy blogger."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, taking the folder from Mona. "Somehow, that sounds worse."

Mona laughed, rumpled his hair, and Kurt shot her an annoyed look that got largely ignored. "it'll be fun," she said, "Promise."

"That's what you think," Kurt muttered darkly, but Mona had already turned on her Christian Loubotins and was gone.

Still grumbling, he sat down at his desk and opened the folder. "Confessions of a Gay Single Dad," he read, and immediately his interest was, ever so slightly, piqued. He typed the URL into his web browser and drummed his fingers on the desk, waiting for it to load. The masthead showed a little girl with chestnut brown curls and a Gymboree backpack heading toward a school. Her back was away from the camera, but her head was turned, laughing, waving. "Gay Single Dad, September 2027" it read. "Confessions of a first grader". Innocuous enough, Kurt thought, and clicked over to the "About me" tab without bothering with any of the entries.

The headshot hit him like a ton of bricks. There was the chestnut-haired little girl again, smiling, her head bent as she looked down at something in her father's hand. But it was the father that struck him. He was older, now, a few lines appearing on that chiseled, godlike face,but the curly dark hair was the same, the mischievous dark eyes. The expression on his face was distinctly Blaine. Kurt paused. It couldn't be. Could it? He admittedly had not kept up with Blaine since he'd left him, but last he'd heard he was a teacher, not a blogger. Taking a deep breath and holding it, Kurt began to read the blurb.

"Blaine Anderson is an acclaimed..." Kurt let out his breath. Well, this just got a lot more interesting. Dazedly, he glanced up at the clock on his wall. 5:30. He didn't technically get off until six, but he felt like this was warranted. He needed a good stiff drink.

* * *

Annika was a flurry of activity as she climbed into the back seat of the car, buckling herself in. "Today we had library and music and gym and drama," she was saying. "I got a new unicorn friends book. Tomorrow it's picture day and I wanna wear my blue dress and Molly had a Nutella sandwich so I traded my Reeces Pieces for it and in music I was playing the triangle and it was really fun." she took a breath and glimpsed the hot chocolate in the front seat cup holder. "Ooh, coffee!" she said excitedly. Blaine listened, amused, to her babbling. "Sounds like an exciting day. We'll have to start the unicorn book at bedtime, huh?" Annika nodded, but she was focused on the "coffee". Blaine handed it to her, and his phone began jangling with a text message from Nina. "vf journalist will b there sat around 2 pm," it read. "stylist will b there around 11. try to pick stuff that represents you both best. qs will be abt blogging , parenting, style, etc."

"Got it," Blaine typed back, turning the radio on and handing Annika her iPod and the auxiliary cable, trying not to cringe as Olly Jonas (son of one of the Brothers, Blaine had never been able to keep them straight) filled he car. "Whats the journalists name?" he liked to do his homework before an interview, check out what they had done in the past so he knew what to expect.

They were at home before Blaine got Nina's reply. "Kurt Hummel," the text said. "hey, didn't u used to date someone named Kurt?"

Blaine froze cutting up tomatoes, his heart dropping into his stomach. There was no way he could do this. "no," he texted back quickly, unable to think of anything else, and quickly dialed the number to the neighborhood Chinese restaurant. There was no way he could concentrate on cooking now. He wasn't even sure he could think about eating right now. Pulling a handful of bills out of his wallet, he called to Annika in the play room, "Listen for the door, baby girl. Daddy is going to lie down, call me when you hear it," and made a dash to the bathroom and promptly threw up. Catching his breath, he leaned against the bathtub, drenched in cool sweat. How could this possibly be happening? There had to have been a mistake. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, still on the screen with Nina's text. And there it was, plain as day,Kurt's name. Blaine's stomach twisted, but this time, he felt his throat constrict and found himself fighting back tears. He couldn't see Kurt. Not now. Not after he'd spent so much time trying to get over him. He couldn't let Kurt see his life now. He would text Nina and have her get them to send a different journalist. Easy. He splashed his face with cold water and went out to play with Annika while they waited for the food. Everything was going to be just fine.

* * *

"Rough day?" Aaron, the bartender at Kurt's favorite bar, located conveniently down the block from the Vanity Fair offices, looked concerned as he poured Kurt a nice strong gin and tonic.

Kurt accepted the glass gratefully. "You could say that."

Aaron gave him a sympathetic pat. "What happened?" he asked. "Anything you can talk about?"

Kurt sipped his drink, sighing. "I have to do an article on my ex."

Aaron looked puzzled. "Greg?"

"I wish. No, my other ex. The one  _before_  Greg."

Recognition dawned. "Oh. Shit."

Kurt nodded. "He's some kind of big shot blogger now, and I'm supposed to go to Westerville to interview him about it."

"Bad breakup?" Aaron had only heard bits about the guy Kurt had dated before Greg, nothing specific.

Kurt shook his head. "Not really. I mean, I left him for Greg, but there was no drama or anything. It's just...weird. After all this time. He was my first love, you know?"

Aaron gave Kurt a knowing look. "Well, you know what they say. You never really forget your first love."

Kurt groaned. "I'm going to need another drink."

* * *

"The public relations for Vanity Fair said they didn't have anyone else to send." Nina sipped her latte. "Why are you acting so weird about this?"

Blaine worried the plastic lid of his cup. It was Tuesday morning. He had taken Annika to school and then demanded an emergency meeting with Nina. "I don't want to see him," he said through gritted teeth.

Nina raised her eyebrows. "You've never even met the guy," she said. "How bad can he be?"

Blaine kept worrying the lid of his cup, and Nina snatched it from him. "I have so," he said, glowering at her and reaching for the cup. "He's, um, kind of my ex."

Nina's face lit up in triumph. "I  _knew_  you'd dated a guy named Kurt!" she said excitedly.

"Yes, and in case you don't recall, he broke my heart into many small pieces and then proceeded to stomp on them. And give me back my coffee."

Nina handed him back his cup. "Leave the lid alone," she scolded, as if Blaine was a little kid. "It's not going to be that bad," she assured him. "and besides. Now might be a good chance to give him a piece of your mind."

"I don't want to give him a piece of my mind," Blaine protested. "I want him to fall off the face of the earth."

Nina patted his hand. "you'll be just fine, baby, I promise."

"We'll see," Blaine muttered darkly, but Nina ignored him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I've got another meeting in twenty," she said. "Give me a call after the interview and tell me how it went, okay? I love you."

"If you loved me, you'd find me another journalist!" Blaine shouted at her retreating form, but she was already gone, waving her hand absently at him.

Back at home, Blaine sat down at the computer, staring blankly at the new post page of his blog for several long minutes. He had planned to write a post reflecting on Annika's first "real" week back to school, but now thoughts of Kurt and Vanity Fair and how much he hated his life right now were swirling around in his head, and he felt like, in a way, he would be doing Annika a disservice to try to write what should be a happy-if slightly bittersweet-post about a huge milestone in her life in this emotional state. "Big News," he typed in the subject box, and the rest of the post seemed to spring to life without even having to think much about it.

"I know I said I'd be talking all about Anni's first week of "real" school, and there  _will_ be post about that soon, but Anni's not the only one who's been having a big week over here in GSDVille. Keep your eyes peeled, because our little blog is going to be featured in the pages of an upcoming issue of  _Vanity Fair_! Needless to say, we're pretty excited over here," He inserted a picture of Annika jumping up and down that he'd taken when he'd surprised her by taking her to Disney World last year, smiling at the memory, and continued typing. "and I hope you'll be excited, too. Stay tuned!"

No sooner had he pushed publish than an unsettled feeling came over him. He was lying to them, he thought. Or at the least, lying by omission. It wasn't that he wasn't  _excited_ to be in Vanity Fair, but the idea of seeing Kurt again was making his chest feel strange and hollow in ways that he hadn't felt since they had broken up, a lifetime ago. It wasn't that he still  _missed_ Kurt, of course, because that would be ridiculous. _You have both moved on with your lives_ , he told himself firmly,  _whatever happens when he comes down here, for better or for worse, is going to be strictly professional and when Monday morning rolls around, he's going to get back on that plane and you never have to think about him again_. But somewhere in the back of Blaine's mind, he wondered if, perhaps, that was exactly the problem. He was afraid that if he saw Kurt again, he wouldn't  _want_ to never see him again.

"Fuck." Blaine ran his hands through his hair, grabbing his keys off the desk. He had  _not_ had enough coffee for this yet.

 


	2. Crossed Out Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Blaine and Kurt both prepare for the interview.

_Into the crowded streets I go_

_Eventually they lead me back home where we used to live_

_I live alone and into bed I go_

_I wish I could tell you just how I felt_

_I don't pray, I shower and take a night to myself_

_And when I close my eyes, I feel like a page with a crossed out name._

~Ryan Adams, "Crossed Out Name"

The rest of the week seemed to fly by impossibly fast, a blur of deadlines and meetings and after work drinks and then it was Friday afternoon, too late to turn back. Kurt dragged his Prada suitcase through JFK with no small amount of reluctance, checking his itinerary for the millionth time. He would fly into Port Columbus International and arrive at 6 pm local time, at which point he would meet up with the photographer and the stylist. A rental car would be waiting for them, and they would drive into Westerville, check into their hotel and meet over dinner to discuss the shoot and interview. Saturday morning the stylist would meet up with Blaine and Annika, then Kurt and the photographer would follow a few hours later. The photographer would get the pictures and then Kurt would interview him. The whole thing should be done by 5:30 and they could head back to the hotel. Three and a half hours, Kurt thought. He could do this. Three and a half hours and then he never had to face Blaine again.

Suddenly, Rachel's voice popped into his head, asking him what he was running from. She had had a night off for once and Kurt had requested an emergency dinner meeting before he left.

"What are you running from?" she had asked. "It's been years. You've moved on with your life, and presumably, so has he. You can't run from your problems, Kurt. You couldn't when we were in high school and you can't now."

He had rolled his eyes and insisted that he wasn't running from anything at the time, just that seeing your ex after so long was bound to be awkward, but now, standing in the airport, less than 24 hours away from actually standing face to face with the man he had once seriously thought he was going marry one day, it seemed infinitely more appropriate. What  _was_ he running from?

As a general rule, Kurt wasn't very good at apologies. He was good at excuses, he was good at shifting the blame, but he wasn't very good at apologies. It was easier for him to make an excuse, or pass the blame off on someone else, or take off and pretend that whatever the wrongdoing was had never happened. So he hadn't apologized when he told Blaine that he was leaving him. He hadn't even apologized when Blaine came back to the apartment three days later to gather the last of his things and found him and Greg naked in their bed, on the sheets they bought together. Instead, he had kept moving forward, destroying all evidence of his life with Blaine, trying to pretend that Blaine Anderson had been as insignificant to him as a stranger he had met in passing.

* * *

_June, 2014_

"Nice little place you've got here." Greg poured two glasses of Shiraz and handed one to Kurt. "Cheers," he said, "To new beginnings."

"It's okay." Kurt flushed at the compliment, getting very interested in the pattern of the tile floor for a moment, and then looked up, smiling, when Greg offered him the glass of wine. "To new beginnings," he agreed, clinking their glasses together.

Blaine had been gone for less than twenty-four hours before Kurt had called Greg over. He had told Blaine that there was no one else, but it hadn't exactly been a lie at the time. Greg had kept a respectful distance while Kurt was still with Blaine, but he had made his intentions clear, and by the time Kurt had finally worked up the courage to break up with Blaine, he felt like he had been waiting long enough. The idea was to keep a low profile for awhile. No public appearances, no one on one dates, nothing that would give them away for at least a few months. Blaine had accepted the idea that they were growing apart, and had agreed that they would always be friends-they were, after all, Blaine had said, sort of intrinsically linked to one another. After everything that Blaine had done for Kurt, he felt like he owed this to him, in a way. He didn't want to hurt him, he had just...grown past their relationship. And that was okay. That was what happened.

Now here they were, two days later, and Greg hadn't left the apartment yet, except to bring over a wine, bread, and cheese basket from the Italian supermarket down the street, "to celebrate the start of something new and wonderful", and even that half an hour apart had made Kurt antsy to touch him again. Once the wine glasses were empty, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Greg's and then taking him by the hand, leading him back to the bedroom, shedding clothes as they went, neither of them registering the fact that Kurt's phone had lit up with a text message from Blaine. "coming to get the rest of my stuff," it read, "be there in 20."

"Honey, I'm home!" Blaine called playfully, bursting through the door of Kurt's apartment. Kurt hadn't answered his text, but he still had a key and he figured Kurt wouldn't mind if he let himself in. Kicking off his shoes, he looked around the living room and kitchen, trying to find any sign that Kurt was home. Figuring he must have gone out, he headed back to the bedroom to grab the last of the things that he had left behind when he'd moved out. There wasn't much, but he figured that the sooner he was all moved into his new apartment, the better.

He was halfway down the hallway when he heard them. Or rather, he heard Kurt giggle, and then say something in a low voice, and a deeper voice answered. At first, it didn't quite register to Blaine that it was Kurt's voice. It was a warm day and the windows were open throughout the apartment and the neighboring apartments-it could have come from anywhere. But as he got closer to the bedroom, it became increasingly more apparent that the voices were, in fact, coming from the bedroom.

Later he wouldn't be able to explain what, exactly, he had been thinking when he kept moving toward the bedroom. He could have- _should_ have-turned around, could have went back out the door and came back later, but for some reason he didn't quite understand, heart pounding, Blaine opened the door to the bedroom.

There was Kurt, naked, curled up with another naked man that Blaine only vaguely recognized as someone that Kurt had once interned for. His name started with a G-Gary or Glen or something. They both looked up with expressions on their faces like guilty schoolchildren, and Blaine felt tears rise in his throat, hot and angry. "Blaine!" Kurt exclaimed, voice higher than usual. "I wasn't expecting you!"

Blaine blinked at them a few times, trying to process what was going on. It took him several long moments before he found his voice. "I'll come back later," he said, voice strange and choked, unlike him, and then he turned and fled.

It was the last time that Kurt would see him for thirteen years.

* * *

"Be good," Blaine instructed, bending down to Annika's level. "Have lots of fun with Lila and Max and listen to Aunt Amanda, okay? Do you think you can remember your manners?"

Annika shuffled her feet, looking annoyed. " _Yes_ , daddy."

Blaine ruffled her hair, smiling affectionately at her and then standing up. "Okay. Daddy and Uncle David will be back soon. We're just going to have a little grown up time, but I'll be home before bedtime, okay?"

Annika folded her arms across her chest. "I  _know,_ daddy."

Blaine scooped her up, smothering her cheeks with kisses. The little girl squealed, burying her face against his shoulder and giggling, "Daddy, stop! Stop it, daddy!"

Swinging her around, Blaine set her back down on the floor and gave her an affectionate pat on the bum. "Off to the cupboard with you, now, Chip."

Annika giggled, scurrying off to the playroom to join her friends.

"We should be back around nine," David said to his wife, giving her a kiss. "Ten at the latest."

"Thanks for watching Anni for me," Blaine added. "It means a lot."

"It's no trouble, really. She's a great little girl. You guys go have fun, I'll see you when you get home."

Once they were seated in the restaurant and their drinks had arrived, David wasted no time in interrogating Blaine. "Wes told me that it was Kurt who was coming to interview you."

Blaine quirked an eyebrow, the hint of an incredulous smile playing across his lips. "Do you and Wes just tell each other everything I tell you, or...?"

"Yes," said David, without even the hint of a smile. "What are you going to do?"

Blaine ran his fingers through his hair. "I have no idea," he admitted. "That's kind of where I was hoping you would come in."

David perused the menu, a thoughtful expression on his face. "He's only coming to interview you, right? So it might be best if you just...play it cool. Strictly professional. You don't owe him anything, Blaine."

Blaine fidgeted with his water glass, turning it around on the coaster. "I guess I'm afraid that I won't be able to," he admitted, not meeting David's eyes.

This time, it was David's turn to quirk an eyebrow. "Blaine, you don't still have  _feelings_ for him, do you?"

Quickly-perhaps too quickly-Blaine shook his head. "Of course not, David. He broke my heart. And besides, it's been thirteen years."

David gave him a knowing look. "Just...tread lightly, okay? I know how stupid you can get when you let that hopeless romantic heart get in the way of your thinking."

"I am  _not_ harboring feelings for Kurt," Blaine insisted. "He broke my heart. I didn't want to see him again. Now I have to, and it's stressing me out. End of story."

David quirked his eyebrow again. "You can't lie to me, Blaine. I read your blog."

* * *

Kurt was exhausted by the time they finally got back to the hotel, and he kicked off his shoes, flopping down on the scratchy hotel blanket and closing his eyes. He hadn't expected being back here to be quite so... _emotional._ Everything seemed to be tied to some memory or another, and it left him reeling. What had happened to that optimistic, head-over-heels teenage boy, and how did he become this cynical man? For a moment, he was seized with a flash of grief for that lost boy. He would never be that happy again, he realized, and the thought made him want to cry.

Sighing, he stood up, taking off his pants and unbuttoning his shirt and heading into the bathroom to splash cold water onto his face. If the last five hours were any indication, this was shaping up to be the longest weekend of his life.

* * *

Back at home, Blaine couldn't sleep. Instead, he laid in his bed staring up at the ceiling and mulling over his conversation with David. Of course he still had feelings for Kurt. He wracked his brain, trying to think of a time since meeting him all those years ago that he  _hadn't_ had feelings for Kurt, but he kept coming up dry. Even when he'd been married to Alex, it seemed like Kurt was still there in the back of his mind. It wasn't like he thought about it all the time, or even very often, but it was  _there_ , sneaking up when he least expected it and sending fresh waves of grief crashing over him.

With a sigh, Blaine looked over at the clock at his bedside. 2:30 am. Groaning, he pulled the blanket over his head and tried to focus on falling asleep. It was going to be a  _very_ long weekend.

 


	3. Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an interview and a reconciliation...maybe.

_The Mississippi's mighty, but it starts in Minnesota_

_At a place you could walk across with five steps down_

_And I guess that's how you started, like a pinprick to my heart_

_But at this point you rush right through me and I start to drown_

_And there's not enough room in this world for my pain_

_Signals crossed and love gets lost and time passed makes it plain_

_Of all my demon spirits, I need you the most_

_I'm in love with your ghost._

~Indigo Girls, " _Ghost"_

"Shit!" Blaine spit the last of his toothpaste in the sink as the doorbell rang. "Anni! Quick like a bunny, you need to come brush your teeth!"

It had been a long night. By the time Blaine had finally gotten to sleep it was almost time to wake up again, and Annika had chosen today of all days to be poky and defiant about everything from breakfast to brushing her hair. Of *course*, he thought, only slightly bitterly. Of *course* today had to be one of those days when nothing quite went right, because it wouldn't be hard enough even if everything went just fine. Still, he managed to be smiling when he opened the door for the stylist, a slightly apologetic, self-deprecating smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Hi, come in," he said, holding out a hand for her to shake. "I'm Blaine, it's great to meet you. We had a little bit of a slow start this morning, Annika is just in brushing her teeth, can I get you anything? Do you need help with your stuff?" he gestured to the two garment cases the stylist had brought with her, but she shook her head, smiling, and took Blaine's hand to shake. "Shannon Delvis, it's nice to meet you. I got here a little early so don't worry about it. Why don't you get Annika and I'll set up. Is the living room okay?"

"Living room's fine," Blaine called, already headed back to the bathroom, where Annika was sitting on her step stool, brushing her American Girl's hair. "All done?" Blaine asked. Annika didn't look up from her doll, humming.

"Annika," he repeated. "The lady is here to get us ready. Are your teeth brushed?"

Finally, Annika put the brush to the side. "Oh," she said, staring down at her feet. "I thought you said to brush Molly's hair."

"Annika Valentine Anderson, what on earth made you think that I would want you to brush Molly's hair?" he asked, exasperated.

Tears threatened in Annika's eyes. "I thought Molly was going to be in the pictures too!" she explained, flinging her arms around Blaine's waist and hiding her face.

Sighing, he picked her up. "It's okay, baby. Sorry daddy got upset with you. Let's brush your teeth and then go see what kind of new clothes the nice lady brought for us."

"New clothes?" Annika asked, eyes glinting, the previous upset forgotten.

Blaine nodded, handing her her toothbrush. "That's right. And since Molly's hair is so nice now, maybe we can ask her if Molly can be in the pictures too, how about that?"

Satisfied, Annika picked up her toothbrush. Blaine watched, smiling. Maybe, he thought, it would be all right after all.

* * *

Kurt had slept soundly in spite of everything, but he still felt like he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed when his alarm went off the next morning. There was no turning back now. He got up, showered, ate breakfast with Shannon and Patrick, the photographer, and then went back to the hotel room to look over his preliminary notes.

He had finally worked up the courage-with Rachel's help-to actually read some of the entries to Blaine's blog on Thursday night after dinner That had been hard, at best. Blaine seemed to, by all accounts, have a happy life. He was "in a good place", according to the blog. He had learned to accept that the demons of his past would always be there, but that he didn't have to rise to them. He clearly loved his daughter more than anything. He had a career-unconventional though it may be-that he loved. He had made himself a family. And that alone was enough to hit Kurt hard, that Blaine had somehow rebuilt his life where Kurt could not, but it was one of the more recent entries that Kurt couldn't get out of his head. "sometimes I think it would be easier if we all just married our first love," it said. "I mean, they were the first person to make you feel that way, after all, so that has to account for something, doesn't it?" He knew exactly what it meant. He had felt that way a million times in the past thirteen years, but seeing it in print that way, from Blaine no less, made him feel strangely hollow. He had no idea what to expect, and that on its own was terrifying enough, but compounded with the idea that Blaine might have been harboring feelings for him after all of that time left him feeling more sad than anything else.

It was perhaps for that reason that it didn't surprise him to find himself typing the blog address into his laptop as he looked over his notes, going back to that entry for what felt like the hundredth time, reading the words that were written there, the words that, after only three days, were already indelibly imprinted on his brain. But it did surprise him to realize that this time as he read he didn't feel sad, he felt inspired. He could make this right. He had to. If not for himself, then for Blaine.

With renewed confidence and only a little trepidation, he picked up his messenger bag off of the table and slung it over his shoulder. Everything was going to be just fine.

* * *

Once the stylist had gone, Blaine found himself feeling oddly without purpose. Annika was under strict orders not to get her crisp blue dress dirty, so she and Molly were vegetating in front of one of Blaine's old Disney movies in the playroom, the house was clean, and he didn't want to blog until after the interview was done. It was rare that he found himself with absolutely nothing to do, and now he was beginning to realize why, because he soon found himself sitting in the wingback chair in the living room, staring out the window, lost in thought.

* * *

_September, 2012_

"It's perfect!" Blaine declared, dropping his suitcase in the hall of his and Kurt's brand new New York apartment.

Kurt looked around, a tiny bit skeptical, and then glanced over at Blaine anxiously. "Do you think so?" he asked. His dad had picked the apartment, completely without any input from either of the boys, and it showed. It was devoid of any sort of personality whatsoever, no floor to ceiling windows, no loft ceilings, its only saving grace being its proximity to Broadway and the fact that Rachel lived right down the hall.

Blaine nodded enthusiastically, reaching for Kurt's hand. "I do," he confirmed, giving Kurt a little spin. "and you want to know why?"

Kurt looked at him with that look of complete adoration he sometimes got, the look that absolutely melted Blaine's heart. "Why?"

Blaine pulled him in for a kiss. "because," he explained. "it might not be glamorous or exciting, but it's ours, and as far as I'm concerned, that's pretty damn close to perfect."

Kurt's eyes shone. "You mean that?"

Blaine nodded. "Of course I do. We could be living in a storage closet and I'd be perfectly happy as long as you were there too."

Kurt leaned against Blaine's shoulder. "Yeah," he agreed. "Me too."

* * *

The sound of the doorbell jolted Blaine out of his reverie, and he scrambled up, tugging at the hem of his sweater and calling to Annika to turn her movie off, checking his hair in the front hall mirror as he pulled the door open.

There he was. Blaine let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, eyes fixed on him. He would have recognized him anywhere. He looked older, of course, but his face was the same, the same high cheekbones and big blue eyes and rosy cheeks. Even his hair was the same, and Blaine had to resist the temptation to pull him close and never let him go. "I forgive you," he wanted to say. "I've been waiting for you for so long, I forgive you." He felt tears prick at his eyes, and he swallowed hard, suppressing the tears and the words. "Come in," he said instead. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Blaine, and this..." as if on cue, Annika had appeared next to him, holding Molly and looking up at these new people anxiously. "...is Annika."

The photographer extended his hand first. "I'm Patrick Waller, it's nice to meet you."

Kurt's hesitation was so brief that Blaine wondered if he had imagined it. "Nice to see you," he said, and Blaine had to resist the temptation to burst out laughing. That was one way of putting it.

They settled in the dining room. Patrick would take the pictures first-Blaine and Annika doing normal things, crafts, playing together, playing on the swingset outside-and Kurt would take notes for the narrative aspect of the article and then sit down with them for a few questions about blogging, personal style, and parenthood. "Sounds good," Blaine agreed, glancing over at Kurt as if he was searching for his approval, but Kurt betrayed no reaction more than a nod. "Let's do this."

* * *

_Turning over a new leaf,_ Kurt thought,  _is easier in theory than it is in practice._

He had come here with a positive outlook, with renewed hope for the first time in thirteen years, but it was different, standing here in the foyer of Blaine's million-dollar home, face to face with the man he'd left behind.

He looked different now, but still so much the same. He had the beginnings of lines around his eyes from years of smiling, and he had lost some of that boyishness, but he was still so entirely  _Blaine_ , so joyful and smiley and dapper as hell, and the little girl next to him was like a mirror of him, head full of dark curls and a slightly mischievous look in her eye, and Kurt had to swallow hard to get rid of the lump that was forming in his throat, unable to make eye contact with him.

It wasn't until he was sitting at the table in the living room, watching them make a craft while Patrick snapped away with his camera that he could really look at him, take in how he looked, how he spoke, what had changed and what had stayed the same, and as he watched, he wrote, and by the time Patrick had finally stopped taking pictures, he had almost ten pages of notes.

"Annika," Blaine was saying, his hand resting on her shoulder, bent down to her level, "Daddy is going to go talk to Kurt for a few minutes. Do you want to go play quietly in your room or do you want to watch another movie?" He didn't hear the little girl's answer, but soon she scurried off and they were alone, finally, for the first time since Kurt had arrived, and he found himself momentarily lost for words. He had prepared questions, of course, but none of them seemed right now, so he sat silently on the sofa and Blaine stood silently in the doorway for nearly a full minute before Blaine slid in tentatively next to him. "Listen," he said. "How about you ask me your questions now and if that goes okay, I'm going to ask you my questions later."

Kurt blinked, then nodded, swallowing hard. "Okay," he agreed, voice a tiny bit shaky, afraid of what those questions might be.

Blaine flashed him a slightly crooked grin that, to Kurt's infinite surprise, didn't even look forced. "Let's do this."

An hour and a half later, Kurt had enough answers for four articles and he had long since run out of questions, and he finally got to his feet. "I really need to go back and sort through this," he explained, suddenly gripped with fear as to what Blaine was going to start asking him and needing an out. It had been easy enough when  _he_ was the one asking the questions, but being in the hot seat was another matter entirely.

"Okay," Blaine agreed, and Kurt relaxed, thinking he had forgotten, heading toward the door. But Blaine, of course, was not going to let him off that easily. He grabbed his arm, looking him in the eye. "Annika goes to bed at 8," he said, voice almost casual. "Come back then."

Kurt matched his gaze, amazed at his ability to keep his voice from wavering. "Okay," he agreed. "See you then."

* * *

By 8:30, Blaine had read Annika six stories, given her fifty-two kisses (she counted), told her he loved her sixty seven times, and she had finally fallen asleep, but there was still no sign of Kurt. Certain he wasn't coming, Blaine sighed, heading into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of wine and work on a blog post. It was typical, he thought. Just like Kurt to promise something like this and not follow through. For what had to be at least the thirtieth time this week, Blaine felt like crying, but this time, he didn't hold back.  _Fuck it,_ he thought. Annika was asleep, he was alone, and after the remarkable composure he had displayed for the past week, he fucking deserved to cry.

He almost didn't hear the knock at the door. If he hadn't been subconsciously listening for it, he was almost certain he would have, but he sprung to his feet, completely ignoring the fact that he probably looked like shit-very pitiful shit. "Kurt!" he said in his pretend-bright, there-is-absolutely-nothing-wrong voice. "You made it! Come in, do you want a glass of wine?"

Kurt was looking at him strangely, studying his face with a look that Blaine was almost convinced was concern. "I'm fine," he added quickly, voice a little softer than before. "I was just having...a moment. Why don't you go sit in the living room?"

Kurt was still looking at him strangely, but he nodded and made his way back into the living room, where he had sat just hours before. "Wine would be nice, thank you."

"Red or white?" Blaine was already in the kitchen, relieved for something to do and the availability of a sink with cold water with which to wash his face.

"Red's fine," Kurt called back.

Pouring the wine, Blaine momentarily looked around for things with which to stall, but he finally just settled for bringing the wine back.  _He_ was running the show this time, not Kurt, and this was going to go exactly how he wanted to. Handing Kurt his wine, he sat down next to him again, in the exact spot that he had sat with him just a few hours earlier.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything. Kurt got very interested in his wine and Blaine got very interested in looking anywhere but Kurt, but finally, after what felt like forever, he finally worked up the courage to speak. "Why?" he asked.

Kurt blinked several times in a row as if he was trying to process the question. "Why...?"

"Why did you leave me? Why him? Why didn't we work out? Why, Kurt?" He could feel his throat getting tight like he was going to cry again, trying desperately to ignore it, not wanting to cry in front of Kurt. Not yet.

It would be nearly a minute-a long, torturous minute-before Kurt spoke, tears in his own voice. "I don't know, Blaine. I...I've been asking myself the same questions for thirteen years."

Blaine's fists clenched, and he had to set the wine glass down before he broke it. "I tried so hard to be everything you wanted," he said, taking deep breaths in between, but it was no use, tears already dribbling down his face. "I gave you everything I had. I  _trusted_ you. I gave up my whole life to follow you because I thought that's what you wanted, and you  _left me_. You...threw me away. I didn't mean anything to you."

Kurt looked like he was considering fleeing, but he-either blessedly or cursedly, Blaine couldn't decide-stayed firmly where he was. "You did, Blaine. You didn't...you didn't do anything wrong." He glanced over at Blaine for the first time since they had started talking and his big blue eyes went wide. "Oh god, Blaine, please don't cry."

"I can't help it!" Blaine knew he sounded like a little kid, but he really couldn't help it. Once the tears had started, they were nearly impossible to stop. "I just...I've felt so  _abandoned_ and  _worthless_ for so long and at least with Alex I knew what he was thinking, but with you...you were always a mystery. I could never understand it."

Kurt reached into his pocket and withdrew a crumpled wad of tissue, handing it to Blaine, who wiped his face and then worried the edge, unable to look back up at him.

"I guess I didn't really understand either," Kurt admitted. "I...you were the first person I ever loved, Blaine. The first person who ever wanted to be with me that I wanted to be with. And when we went to New York, everything changed. We weren't in small-town Ohio anymore, we were...we'd made it. And I guess I wanted to rebel against everything that I'd been in small town Ohio. I guess that I didn't think about your feelings. I was too busy thinking about my own." He looked down at his hands, ashamed. "I thought I wanted something different. It turns out I didn't."

Blaine let out a deep, shuddery breath. "I knew I didn't want anything different," he told the tissue.

There was another moment of brief, tension-filled silence, and then Kurt did something that Blaine could never have predicted. He hugged him. "I'm sorry," he said simply, and there was a certain sincerity in his voice that made Blaine's breath catch. It might not have been the big, dramatic apology he had hoped for, but those two words meant more to him than he could have ever thought possible, and he found himself leaning into Kurt's touch, taking deep breaths in an attempt to keep the tears under control. "I know," he said, and then sat up, turning so that he could face Kurt. "The thing is...that apology means the world to me, Kurt, it really does, but...I'm not sure I'm ready to forgive you yet. It's going to take some time before I can forgive you and move on, wherever that takes us. I have Annika to worry about, and..."

Kurt stood up briskly, all business, but when he spoke his voice was still gentle. "I know that, Blaine," he said, holding out his hand to help him off the sofa. "Listen. I go back to New York tomorrow morning, but..." he disappeared into the foyer and came back with a business card. "This has my numbers, home and cell, and my email address. I want to talk about this. I want to make things right, in any way that I can, no matter what that means for us. I have a lot of work to do myself, because after thirteen years, I don't think I've ever really figured myself out even though that's what I've been trying to do. If anything, I've just lost myself more. But I can't...I don't want to let you go again, so can you promise that you'll use this, if I promise that I'll use yours?"

Blaine was dumbfounded by Kurt's speech, but he took the business card with shaking hands, nodding. "I promise," he agreed.

Kurt reached out, giving Blaine's hand a little squeeze, and made his way back to the foyer to put on his shoes, gather his coat, Blaine trailing after. He had his hand on the doorknob when he turned around to address Blaine once more. "And Blaine?"

Blaine, who was studying the business card carefully, looked up. "What?"

"Courage."

And then, just like that, he was gone again.

 


	4. Louder Than Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bad life choices abound.

_Why do we stay with lovers who we know down deep just aren't right?_

_Why would we rather put ourselves than sleep alone at night?_

tick...tick...BOOM!,  _Louder Than Words_

"So it's been a week (and two days!) since we here in GSDVille had our moment of fashion magazine fame, and I think that means we're far overdue for an update, don't you think?

I've been blogging here for four years now. Four years ago, I was struggling to come to terms with the dissolution of my marriage and the feelings of fear, guilt, dread, and inadequacy that accompanied it. Four years ago, I had a little girl who was just barely two and no idea how to raise her. I guess you could say that it wasn't exactly a good time in my life. I didn't know what to do with these feelings, so I sat down and started writing, and I guess even after those feelings were gone, it didn't occur to me to stop.

I didn't think, four years ago, that someday this little blog would bring me to Vanity Fair, to a book deal, to having millions of people reading and commenting and emailing every day. I'm glad that I could bring you together, this little-well, not so little-community of readers I like to call GSDVille. But it was you who brought me here, made this blog what it is now, and I owe you all a thank you in a big way. Thank you for reading, for supporting me through the bad times and celebrating with me through the good. You cannot imagine how grateful I am for that.

Things might be a little sporadic around GSDVille for the next few days. This interview dragged up some of those old feelings, and I'm not sure I'm ready to write about them yet, and until I'm ready, I'm going to take a little break. I won't be gone long, and what I will tell you is that the interview is full of beautiful pictures by the immensely talented photographer, beautiful clothes from the immensely talented stylist, and beautiful words from the immensely talented journalist, that Annika and I had an absolute blast with it, that the story will be in the December 2027 issue, and that I won't be gone for long. Until then, you can feel free to email me, check out the archives, browse our photo or video galleries, or check out the discussions going on over at the GSDVille forums. I love you all."

Reading over the post once more, Blaine sighed and hit send. He hadn't felt much like blogging, aside from a few little picture posts, in the past few days since the interview-and his proceeding chat with Kurt-had happened, and he hoped that a hiatus would help sort himself out. The clock on his laptop informed him that he still had almost 3 hours before it was time to pick Annika up. He needed to get groceries and make a trip down to the post office and Toys R Us to pick up presents for the seemingly hundreds of birthday parties Annika had to attend in the next six weeks, but something made him hesitate in getting up and getting a head start on it.

Before he really knew what he was doing he was opening his email, rummaging in his desk for the business card Kurt had left for him, typing in his email address. There was a moment of hesitation-what was there to say, really?-but it was fleeting, and soon he began to type again.

"Kurt,

I'm glad that we were able to talk on Saturday night. I know that we still have much more to talk about, and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

I hope you're well.

-Blaine"

As soon as he sent it, he felt satisfied, grabbing his keys off of the desk to head out.

* * *

It wasn't that Kurt had been avoiding Blaine, but there wasn't much to say and so he hadn't said anything. And if he was being honest with himself (which he had tried really hard to in the days since he had gotten back to New York), he wasn't sure what he wanted to happen between him and Blaine now. A big part of him wanted to just move on, but there was something that kept him thinking that they weren't finished yet. He had, after all, given Blaine his card, hadn't he?

He was having lunch with Rachel when his phone went off to alert him of an incoming email, and he froze halfway to his plate when he saw the name.

"What is it?" Rachel leaned forward, curious, and Kurt held up his phone to show her. "Ooh!" she clapped excitedly. "Open it, open it!"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "How old are you again?" he asked, but Rachel just laughed. "I told you," he added, "we just talked. Nothing happened. He cried a lot, we agreed to keep in touch. Oh fine, stop looking at me like that!" making sure she knew exactly how silly he found her, Kurt opened the email, reading it out loud.

Rachel looked slightly disappointed. "That's it?"

"I told you, nothing happened." Kurt tucked his phone back into his pants pocket and turned his attention back to his food.

Rachel gave him an infuriatingly knowing smile. "So what are you going to say?"

Kurt shrugged. "I haven't decided yet."

"But you are going to say something, right? You can't just leave him hanging!"

Kurt shot her a look. "Rachel, if you don't stop asking questions, he's not going to get a response because I'm going to be in jail for murdering you with my salad fork."

When he got back to his office, Kurt was grateful for the neat little pile of paper sitting on his desk to distract him from his email. He would respond to Blaine, he told himself, he was just busy right now. When he got home.

But there was a call from Loren and Paul on his voicemail when he got home, wanting to see if he wanted to catch a late dinner and then their friend's performance art piece in Greenwich, and by the time he got back, it was late and he was tipsy and the email was forgotten until he was almost asleep, and by then it was too late. Blaine would just have to wait.

* * *

Days went by, and then weeks with no response from Kurt, and Blaine filled his time with work and Annika and Nina and David and Wes, with errands and parent teacher meetings and lessons-ballet, swim, and gymnastics-until he had mostly forgotten that he had even sent it. This was how these things worked, he told himself. He couldn't make Kurt respond, he just had to wait, give him time, and he would talk when he was ready.

Nevertheless, he had pretty much given up when, four weeks later, the email from Kurt came.

"I'm not sure what you're looking for," it said. "Is it closure? Friendship? A relationship? Because as much as I wish I was, I'm not sure I even know what I'm looking for out of you, so I can't even try to predict what you want.

It was good to talk to you again, though, even if you didn't get all of the answers you were looking for. If you ask me the questions, though, I'll answer them. No matter how hard. And if you don't know what you're looking for either, maybe we'll just have to learn together.

I look forward to hearing from you."

Blaine stared at the email in absolute bewilderment, his hands paused over the keys of the keyboard and his mind flicking between anger and bewilderment and that deep, hollow pang that he had come to associate exclusively with Kurt. What  _did_ he want? He wanted it to be 2012 again. He wanted them to be teenagers on the brink of adulthood with the world at their feet. He wanted to have never felt like this before, but he knew it was too late, and so he didn't know what he wanted, either. His eyes fell on the word "relationship" and the pang returned, deep in his chest. He allowed himself a moment to fantasize about Kurt being  _his_ again, about picking up where they had left off and learning to love each other the way they once had, but no more than a moment. It wouldn't work. They were different people, in different places, and that was exactly what had ruined them the last time, wasn't it?

_Or was it?_  his brain demanded. It didn't seem logical. How could they have gone from being so close, so complimentary to each other in every way, to having grown that far apart in only a few short months? It didn't seem possible. So what had it been, then? Had it been Greg that had torn them apart after all? Talked pretty to Kurt, filled his head with promises that he never followed through on, and made him think that he was growing apart from Blaine even when he wasn't?

Anger swelled in Blaine's chest. Anger with Kurt for betraying him like that, but mostly, anger at Greg for taking him away. He believed in second chances, in happy endings, but life wasn't a Disney movie, and things weren't wrapped up in neat bows after an hour and a half no matter how much he would like them to be. He paused for a moment to catch his breath and consider what he wanted to write.

"It makes me angry that we never really got a chance," he typed back. "I know that we never got a chance to branch out and explore before getting together and I know that maybe you don't believe in the concept of happily ever afters the way that I do, but I feel like we could have had one. Maybe we still could, but I think it might be too late.

So what I want, I guess, is to know what happened to the Kurt I once knew. The one that was bright and hopeful and sweet. I want to know how he got so lost along the way, and what I can do to help get him back. I saw him on Saturday, I know he's still there.

If nothing comes of it for us, well...that's okay, but I think you owe it to yourself to be the person you truly are, not the person some asshole made you into."

Satisfied, he hit send and stood up from his computer. That, he thought, was a good place to start.

* * *

When Kurt finally got home from an interminable day of meetings he was relieved, for once, that he'd forgotten his phone on the end table by the door that morning. Whatever he had been expecting from Blaine's email, this was not it. Here he was, talking about happy endings and fixing him and calling Greg an asshole, and even though he knew it should have made him happy, it really just scared the shit out of him and made him wonder if this was just too much at once.

If Rachel had been there, she would have talked him out of what he was about to do, but Rachel was in LA at an audition and Kurt was left alone with his thoughts. Greg's voice popped into his head.  _"Blaine doesn't really love you,"_ he had told him once. " _He just wants somebody to take care of, and he thinks you're it, but you're a big boy now, and you can take care of yourself."_ This, he thought, just further drove home that point, and before he had time to really think things through he was typing out his reply.

As soon as he hit the send button, however, he felt a pang of regret, then fear. Fear that it would be the last time that he ever got to talk to Blaine and fear that it was the wrong decision and fear that he really had fucked his life up beyond all repair. And if his life was fucked up beyond all repair, he felt like there was only one thing left to do. Picking up his phone, he dialed Greg's number without a moment's hesitation.

He picked up on the first ring, and even the sound of his voice filled Kurt with a certain sort of calm. "Hello?"

Kurt hesitated. "It's Kurt," he said softly.

On the other end of the line, Greg let out a puff of breath. "Are you okay?"

"Not really." Kurt sucked in a breath and held it. Rachel was absolutely going to kill him when she found out.

Greg's response came instantaneously. "I'll be right there."

The line went dead again and Kurt let out his breath. If Blaine never spoke to him again, at least he'd never know how badly Kurt had fucked up again.

* * *

There was an email from Kurt when he got home from gymnastics with Annika, and the temptation to break his rule about not working while she was awake at home was overwhelming, but 8 pm rolled around soon enough, and Annika, exhausted from school and gymnastics and all the excitement of being a six year old girl, was asleep within minutes, and Blaine headed back downstairs to read his email, his heart drumming with anticipation, feeling for all the world like a teenager again.

His youthful anticipation would, however, prove to be short-lived.

"I don't want you to save me," the email read. "No, sorry, I don't  _need_ you to save me, and if that's what you're in it for, I don't think this is going to work. If I thought I needed fixing, I would do it myself."

Blaine leaned back in his chair, bewildered, unsure of how to respond. Had they really taken all of these steps forward only to take such a giant leap back? Tears pricked the back of his throat for the millionth time, and he wondered if all of this was worth it. Was the tiny possibility that they would get a happily ever after worth all of these tears, this lost sleep, this pain? He was beginning to think not, and so he sat up straight, swallowing his tears. "If this is the person you've become and you're happy with that," he wrote back, "Then that's your decision. But I saw some of the person you once were, and I think that person was happier. I'll always be here for you, Kurt. No matter what you do, no matter how hard it is, I'll always be here if you need me." His fingers paused over the keys, but that seemed like enough, and he pressed send, padding down the hallway to look in on Annika, sleeping soundly in her bed, one arm flung over her forehead, the other clutching the worn-out blanket she'd slept with since she was a baby. If there was nothing else left in his life, he thought, at least there was Annika. He crept in to give her a kiss on the forehead. "I love you, baby," he whispered. "Forever and always." She stirred, but did not wake, and Blaine stroked her forehead, padding back out into the hallway and letting the door click behind him, completely content and sure that everything was going to be okay, no matter what.

* * *

"What happened?" Greg had barely walked through the door before he had Kurt pressed against the wall, kissing at his neck, one hand running up his waist under his shirt.

"I saw Blaine again," Kurt explained in a breathless voice. "We started talking a lot, and then he emailed me all wanting to fix me and talking about happily ever afters."

Greg kissed his way over Kurt's neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there, making him groan. "What did I tell you about that?"

Kurt tilted his head back, too turned on to be ashamed. "I know..."

"It's okay," Greg reassured him. "You can't let him fuck around with your emotions like that, Kurt, you're better than that."

As Greg took his hand, led him back to his bedroom, Kurt reflected that he wasn't sure if he was talking about himself or about Blaine. He also wasn't sure if, in that moment, he cared, letting him lead the way. He would not think about Blaine again that night.

 


	5. Watch it Die

_My love for you has died tonight_

_I don't know how to own you_

_My love for you was faulty_

_Now baby, just watch it die_

_I caught you in a lie, singing "hey"_

_I'll never be what you want_

_Fabulous teeth and I swear that I met your heart_

_Now come on, don't you know how to play?_

~Eisley,  _Watch It Die  
_

It was surprisingly easy to let Kurt go.

The first few weeks were painful, and Blaine cursed himself for letting himself hurt so much, for believing that Kurt could have been part of his life again. It had been a mistake, he told himself. He had a job to do and a daughter to raise, and he just didn't have time for something as foolish as dating-even dating the person he thought was the love of his life. It had been a mistake to ever think otherwise, and so he filled his head with other thoughts and his days with other things, and it didn't take long before he wasn't thinking of Kurt much at all.

There were still times he did, of course, especially at night, but instead of dwelling on the things that would never be, he thought of the happy times they did have together, filling him with a sense of peace.

"You're handling this well," Wes remarked one evening in late October over dinner.

Blaine sipped his wine, half shrugged. "It wasn't like we got back together. It's not like we even talked about it. He chose to go his separate way and it didn't make any sense to me to sit around and be sad about it."

"Yeah," Wes conceded, "but he still strung you along a little."

"If there's one thing that I've learned about Kurt in all this time is that he needs time to make his own mistakes. If he decides at some point that our lives are going to intersect again, they will. But until then, there's fuck all I can do about it. And besides, I've got Annika to worry about. It's not going to do her any good to see her dad carrying on like a heartbroken teenager." Blaine twirled his spaghetti on his fork.

"Do you think he'll come around?"

Blaine smiled, mostly to himself. "I think that life has a funny way of working itself out sometimes, one way or the other."

Wes took a sip of his wine to hide his smile. "You're a hopeless romantic," he chided.

Blaine looked sheepish. "Always have been."

* * *

"We need to talk." Rachel stood in the doorway to Kurt's office, arms folded across her chest.

Kurt raised his eyebrows, looking up over the rims of his D&G glasses at her. "Nice to see you too, Rachel."

"What do you think you're doing? Do you want to explain to me why I called your apartment this morning and *Greg* picked up the phone? Because if I recall, we had a conversation about this about a year ago and I believe the results were 'Greg is bad news and should be avoided at all costs'. And what happened to Blaine? You didn't seriously break the poor guy's heart for the second time, did you? Sometimes I think he would have been better off if I had married him!"

"He's gay, Rachel," Kurt said practically. "I'm pretty sure that would have ended badly, too."

Rachel glared. "You're avoiding the question."

"Fine." Kurt rolled his eyes. "I've been seeing Greg again."

"Why?" Rachel practically hollered. "There is no part of this that is going to end well for you!"

"He's changed," Kurt insisted. "And I'm kind of trying to work right now, so can we please discuss this later?"

"Fine." Rachel pulled her sunglasses off her forehead to hide the full extent of the death glare she was giving him. "But for the record, I think you're making a mistake."

"Thanks, mom." Kurt waved her off. "I'll give you a call later, okay?"

Rachel turned and left his office, grumbling all the way, and Kurt tore a sticky note off the top of the pad, writing 'Rachel dinner' on it and sticking it to his computer monitor, turning his attention back to work.

In truth, things had been going well with Greg. They had agreed that they didn't need anything serious right now, and it felt good not to think for once. Blaine was too complicated right now. He need to just be for a while, and Greg seemed to understand that. He hadn't even thought of Blaine in almost two weeks, and as far as he was concerned, that chapter in his life was over and he was all the better for it.

The apartment was empty when Kurt got there, but there was a note on the door in Greg's handwriting. 'emergency client meeting,' it explained, 'meet me city hall 7:15'. Kurt's phone told him it was 5:30, so he figured he had just enough time to shower before having to head out. He headed back toward the bathroom, firing off a quick text to Greg to find out if he was in a Marc Jacobs mood or a McQueen mood.

He wasn't sure what possessed him to look at his email after hitting send. He had checked both his work email and his personal email right before leaving work, after all, and he really didn't have time to be answering emails right now, but for some reason he felt compelled to look.

There at the bottom of the page, in amongst the million fashion newsletters he couldn't bring himself to delete, was an unread email from Blaine, dated almost two weeks before, from the night he had called Greg. He had half a mind to delete it without even bothering to read it, but there was something that compelled him to click. _I'll always be here for you, Kurt,_  it read.  _No matter what you do, no matter how hard it is, I'll always be here if you need me._

"I don't need you to do anything except leave me the hell alone," Kurt muttered darkly. He had half a mind to delete it, but something gave him pause and he put it in the archive folder, just in case.

* * *

"I want to put up the Christmas tree." Annika climbed into Blaine's lap the morning after Halloween, still in her skeleton pajamas, the remnants of a tootsie pop congealing in her hair, resting her head against his shoulder and popping her thumb in her mouth.

Blaine chuckled, pulling her thumb out of her mouth to Annika's great consternation. "Don't you think we should wait until Thanksgiving?" he asked, combing her hair with his fingers.

Annika shook her head. "Nope," she said. "Want to know why?"

Blaine kissed the top of her head, already going to give in but wanting to humor her. "Sure. Tell me why."

"Because Thanksgiving isn't magic," she explained. "Halloween is magic, but it's all done,and then the next magic one is Christmas."

"I see." Blaine nodded sagely. "I think you're right, Thanksgiving isn't very magical, but Nana's turkey is pretty good, don't you think?"

Annika giggled. "Yeah," she agreed. "And I like the parade on TV. But daddy," she sat up, suddenly all business, and said very seriously, "Our house needs some magic right now."

Blaine reflected on the last two months of their lives, half smiling, amazed at how perceptive his child could be. "You know what? I think you're absolutely right." He set her down on the floor, standing up. "Let's go wash your hair first, though."

Half an hour later, the soundtrack to A Charlie Brown Christmas was blaring through the stereo and Annika was seated on her perch on the arm of the sofa, watching Blaine as he carefully assembled their Christmas tree. When Annika was little, he had always insisted on taking her to a tree farm (a tradition that drove Alex positively up the wall) and picking out a real tree, but as she got older, she insisted on putting it up earlier and earlier, until Blaine finally knuckled under the year before and bought an artificial tree. It wasn't quite the same, but Annika was still young enough that a tree was a tree, so it didn't really matter.

"What do you want for Christmas, Anni?" he asked as he strung the lights, Annika's second least favorite part of Christmas tree decorating besides the actual tree assembly. Annika began to list off all of the things that she had seen on TV, at her friend's houses, and on the shelves at Toys r Us. Blaine was only half-listening, but suddenly Annika said something that made him snap to attention. "...and you to always be happy and not ever to be sad," she finished. Blaine got down off his step ladder, bending down in front of Annika where she sat on the couch. "What's that?" he asked carefully, gently. "Daddy didn't quite hear you."

Annika matched his gaze steadily. "I don't want you to be sad."

Blaine took her little hands in his. "Do you think daddy is sad?"

She considered. "You were a little bit sad before. After the man from the mag-a-zine came."

Blaine flushed, embarrassed. Had he really been so obvious that Annika had noticed? Cursing himself, he sat down next to her and pulled her into his lap. "Anni," he said gently. "Sometimes grown ups hurt other grown ups very badly with their words and actions."

Annika considered. "Like the time that Kailey O. told me she didn't like my hair bow."

Blaine nodded. "Sort of like that, yeah. And the man from the magazine hurt daddy's feelings very badly, and so daddy was sad for awhile. I'm sorry that happened, Annika, but you know what?"

Annika played with Blaine's cufflinks. "What?"

"Daddy isn't going to let the man from the magazine hurt him anymore, so you don't have to worry about daddy being sad. As long as I have my little girl, I won't be sad. So why don't we decorate this tree and then go get some coffee and maybe if you are a very, very good girl, daddy might have a surprise for you. How does that sound?"

Annika nodded, hopping off of Blaine's lap as if nothing had happened and making a run for the Christmas tree.

Blaine watched as she carefully selected the ornaments and where to put them, mostly clumped toward the front of the tree and all in one spot. The interior decorator in him was cringing, but the father in him wouldn't have it any other way, and the father in him always won out. Things weren't always perfect, they weren't always even or nice to look at, but they were beautiful in their way, and that was enough for him.

"Hey, Anni," he said, "I think you've done a great job decorating so far. What do you say it's time for a coffee break, huh?"

Annika stood back, surveying her work. "Yeah," she conceded. "Just one more thing." Gingerly, she picked the angel up out of her nest of tissue paper and carried her toward the tree with outstretched arms. "Will you help me, daddy?"

Blaine smiled. "Of course." He scooped her up in his arms. "Ready?"

She nodded seriously. "Ready."

"Okay. One...two...three!" Annika excitedly shoved the angel onto the tip of the tree, where she sat haphazardly, smiling benevolently. Blaine gave her a quick nudge so that she sat up straight, hoping Annika wouldn't notice, and then set her down on the ground again. "Perfect," he declared. "Quick, Anni, go turn the lights off and we'll turn on the tree."

Annika dashed around, flicking off the lights, and when she was done she came to stand next to Blaine, reaching for his hand and regarding the tree with great gravity.

"So?" he asked, looking down at her expectantly.

"I think it's our most best tree ever," Annika declared.

Blaine looked back at the tree, with its crooked angel and clustered ornaments and mismatched lights. "You know, I think you're right," he agreed. "It is the most best tree I have ever seen."

* * *

"You shouldn't have worn that."

Kurt paused over his risotto. "Pardon me?"

"You should have worn Marc Jacobs. McQueen is too..." Greg sipped his wine, searching for the word. " _overblown_."

Kurt blinked in surprise. "You wanted me to wear the McQueen," he pointed out, staring down at his plate, feeling like a little boy who had been chastised for misbehaving in public.

Greg seemed to be considering this. "Next time, don't take my advice."

"I won't," Kurt said quietly, picking up his fork. "Sorry."

Greg smiled at him. "Good. How about dessert?"

Later that night, Kurt found himself laying awake, unable to sleep, long after Greg had begun to snore next to him. Unpinning himself from under Greg's arm, he rolled over, reaching into the bedside table for his phone, calling up Blaine's email. " _No matter what you do, no matter how hard it is, I'll always be here if you need me."_

He was beginning to suspect, against his best judgement, that he might need Blaine more than he was willing to admit.


	6. Lucky Now

_I don't remember, were we wild and young?_

_All that's faded into memory._

_I feel like somebody I don't know_

_Are we really who we used to be?_

_Am I really who I was?_

~Ryan Adams,  _Lucky Now_

"Did you see the article?" Nina asked, handing Blaine his coffee as they headed for a table. Blaine shook his head, sitting. "Surprisingly, I chose to wait until it came out. I was going to pick up a copy on our way out of here." He tried to read Nina's face. "Is it that bad?"

Nina thrust the magazine at him. "It's sweet, actually. See for yourself."

Nervously, Blaine took the magazine out of her hands, flicking through it until he came to the article.

_If you had asked Blaine Anderson ten years ago what he saw himself doing in ten years time, you might have been surprised by the answer._

_"I wanted to be a musician," says Anderson, 33, smoothing down his Prada sweater with a small smile. "I couldn't see myself doing anything else. That was what I had my heart set on and that was what I was going to do." And at the time, there was, it seemed, nothing holding him back. "I moved to New York, I was studying with some of the best classically trained musicians in the country. I was making it happen for myself."_

_But life, it seemed, had different ideas for him._

_"I moved back to Westerville, where I grew up, about a year, year and a half after moving to New York, and for awhile I didn't know what to do with myself. I just kind of...floundered for awhile."_

_He began teaching at the Rainbow Academy, a private arts-focus elementary school in Westerville. Here he found a job-and, eventually, a man-that he loved._

_"I met Alex-my ex-husband-about three or four months after I started working there. I guess you could say it was love at first sight." Anderson's expression softens slightly. "I was completely taken with him, and I thought, 'Hey, this is what I want from my life right now.' I was still struggling with all the heartbreaks I was going through then, and I think that in part, I thought Alex was going to fix some of that."_

_They married in the winter of 2018, eleven months after they met, and decided right away that they were going to start a family, and in June of 2021, their daughter, Annika, was born by a gestational surrogate._

_"I had always wanted children, to have a family." Anderson smiles fondly. "Having Annika was this incredibly mind-blowing experience. I felt, for the first time since I had come back to Ohio, that I knew exactly what my purpose was. Like I had found some sort of happily ever after."_

_His happily ever after, however, turned out to be short-lived. Two years after Annika was born, Alex told him he had enough._

_"It was all very sudden," recalls Anderson. "I don't even think we had fought before it happened. We drove to work together in the morning and when I came back to the car from dropping Annika off at daycare, he told me he wanted a divorce and that he was giving me full custody of Annika."_

_It was then that Anderson started blogging. It started, he said, as a way to deal with what he was going through._

_"I had gone from having a great, supportive husband to having no husband. I was completely alone, and it felt like I couldn't make sense of anything, so I started writing about it."_

_At first, he said, he didn't expect anything to come of it except maybe some free therapy. What did happen, however, was something nobody could have expected: the blog became a hit._

_"When I first started, I was getting maybe a hundred or so hits per month. After six months, it was around five or six thousand, and that's when ad companies started getting interested."_

_Within eight months of starting his blog, Confessions of a Gay Single Dad, Anderson was able to quit his job to write full time. Now in its fourth year of life, the blog averages around 2.5 million hits per month, and, says Anderson, it pays quite handsomely._

_"Let's just say," he laughs, "that both my family and my publicist's family live quite comfortably."_

_In May, Anderson signed with Starboard Publishing, and he has a series of afternoon talk show appearances within the coming months. In March, Time magazine ranked him number 5 on their list of the most influential bloggers of the decade. Success hasn't, however, made Anderson lose sight of the most important thing: his daughter. "Now that she's in school I devote five to six hours a day to working," he says, "but I made myself promise that I would never use the computer when she was awake at home. So many of my peers get caught up in the blogging aspect that they forget about their families."_

_Some might argue that Anderson has given up on any chances he could have had at success, but he sees it differently._

_"I think I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. When you think about it, it's not all that different from performing. You're reaching out to people with your words. I am able to devote most of my time to my daughter and still do something that I love. I think that is the mark of true success more than anything else."_

Blaine handed the magazine back to Nina, a bemused expression on his face. "It was nice of him to completely gloss over the whole reason why I left New York," he said, sipping his coffee. "and I like how he implied that people think I'm not successful. No, I think that's only you. The pictures are nice, though."

Nina laughed. "I thought it made you sound like a great man and a great dad. You're both, by the way."

"Yeah." Blaine's eyes twinkled with amusement. "But it kind of makes him sound like an asshole."

"Isn't he?" Nina asked, trying to keep a straight face.

"I think he's just misguided, actually," Blaine admitted. "It's like asshole, but curable."

Suddenly, Nina got serious. "You still want to cure him, don't you?"

"No." Blaine shook his head. "I can't. It's out of my hands. But yeah, I want him to get sorted out. Of course I do. I always have, and I probably always will."

Nina shook her head. "You are one lovesick bastard, Blaine Anderson. When will you ever learn?"

Blaine looked sheepish. "Probably never. Not when it comes to Kurt."

* * *

"So what happened?" Rachel demanded. "I really thought things were going okay. And even if they weren't, I thought you were smart enough to realize that Greg is not and will never be the answer."

Kurt folded his arms across his chest. "He's changed," he insisted. "Things are better this time. Blaine wants everything to be all fluffy and happy and perfect. He thinks that he can change me into his...Prince Charming, or something. Greg understands that that isn't the person I am anymore."

"Does he?" Rachel questioned. "Or did Greg turn you into this person when you've really been the person Blaine thinks you are all along?"

Kurt paused. "What?"

"I've known you for 20 years, Kurt. And I love you to death no matter what your personality is, but I know this isn't you, and it hurts *me* to see you acting like this. I can't imagine how much it hurts Blaine."

Kurt looked down. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Rachel stood up. "Fine," she said. "I just want you to remember what happened last time, and I don't want you to make that same mistake again."

"I'm not making any mistakes," Kurt mumbled, but Rachel was already gone.

* * *

_November 2012 - January 2013  
_

Kurt straightened his jacket, looking up at the sign on the door. "Gregory McCutcheon, HR Manager", it read. This was the place. Knocking on the door, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Nick, his friend from the recruiting agency, had told him that if he could get an appointment at Miller & Harris, he would have one foot in the door to any of the magazines he could have possibly wanted to work for, and here he was, about to meet the HR manager, standing on the cusp of greatness. "here I go," he texted Blaine, knocking on the door.

"Come in." The man's voice was husky and deep in a way that made Kurt shiver, and he took a deep breath, stepping into the office.

There he sat, Gregory McCutcheon, HR Manager, in a stylish yet professional D&G suit and lavender tie, prematurely grey in a rakishly handsome, Richard Gere kind of way. Kurt swallowed hard. "Hello, sir," he said, "I'm Kurt Hummel, I'm here for the internship?"

Gregory McCutcheon looked up, smiled (smiled in such a devastating way that Kurt thought he was going to  _die_ ), and gave Kurt a once over. "Yes," he said, getting to his feet and shaking Kurt's hand. "Kurt, yes. Elizabeth from the recruiting agency sent your CV over." he gave Kurt another once over, and it occurred to him with a thrill that Gregory McCutcheon, HR manager, was  _checking him out_. "Kurt, I think you'll fit in very nicely here. How's Monday to start?"

Kurt blinked. "You don't want to interview me?" he stammered.

Gregory McCutcheon, HR Manager flashed him another devastating smile. "What can I say, I've always been good at first impressions." He extended a hand for Kurt to shake again, and Kurt accepted it, shaking vigorously. "Thank you, Mr McCutcheon, sir."

Greg's eyes twinkled. "Call me Greg, Kurt."

Kurt felt like he was floating all the way back to his apartment, where Blaine was sitting on the sofa, strumming his guitar, papers strewn all over the coffee table. When he heard Kurt come in, he looked up, smiling. "Hey, babe. How was your interview?"

Kurt kicked off his shoes, his head still spinning. "Great. I got the internship, I start on Monday."

"Yay!" Blaine jumped up, giving Kurt a big kiss. "I'm so proud of you!"

Of its own volition, Kurt's thoughts flashed to Greg McCutcheon, his rakishly handsome face, his twinkly eyes, his devastating smile, and he grabbed Blaine by the collar of his stupid pink polo shirt, kissing him hard. When he pulled back, Blaine blinked, then grinned. "You sure are frisky."

Kurt ran his hands up Blaine's sides. "I guess getting a job made me excited."

In retrospect, he should have known it was wrong. But nobody (besides Blaine, who barely counted anymore) had ever looked at him like that, especially not anybody as devastatingly handsome and influential as Greg McCutcheon, and he told himself it was justifiable excitement. It wasn't like anything was going to become of it, anyway. Greg was his  _boss_ , and he was at least 20 years Kurt's senior. And besides, if it improved his sex life with Blaine to think of Greg, then everybody won, right?

By Christmas, Greg had become his best New York friend besides Rachel and his main confidant. Kurt told him everything, his hopes and dreams, the impact his mother's death had had upon him, his fears and aspirations. He wasn't sure what it was about Greg that made him feel like he could spill his soul to him, but he did, almost every day over lunch. Greg had this way of making him feel like he meant something-Blaine did too, of course, but Greg was actually  _someone_ , someone important, and it made Kurt's head spin that he would see anything in him, in an eighteen year old nobody from Lima, Ohio. It made him feel like he really could be somebody someday.

In January, Greg invited he and Blaine over for dinner.

"Make a good impression," Kurt had told him anxiously. "Don't say anything awkward. Try not to talk too much. You're not wearing a bow tie, that's good. Oh God, Blaine, you're not seriously going to wear  _saddle shoes_."

Blaine paused tying his laces, giving Kurt a look like a wounded puppy dog. "What's the matter with my shoes?"

Kurt shook his head. "Nothing. There's no time. You look great." He leaned over and kissed Blaine on the temple. Blaine looked up, smiling, and got to his feet. "Baby," he said, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist for a moment. "He's just your boss, not your  _dad_. It's going to be fine."

Kurt tried to relax, giving Blaine a reassuring smile. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

And the dinner  _did_ go fine. At least, Kurt thought it had gone fine. Blaine was appropriately charming and funny and sweet and Greg was devastatingly handsome as usual and didn't even seem to notice Blaine's shoe transgressions. The next morning at work, however, Greg let him know that it hadn't gone as well as he had thought.

"I don't like him," he informed Kurt over lunch.

Kurt squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable. "Don't like who?" he asked, trying to play it safe, keeping his voice even.

Greg quirked his eyebrow at him. "I don't like your boyfriend, Kurt."

_How could anybody not like Blaine?_ The concept seemed foreign to him. "Did he do something wrong at dinner last night? I'm sorry. I'll talk to him."

"No, no." Greg reached for Kurt's hand, held it, and Kurt was sure that Greg could feel his heartbeat. "I just don't think he's right for you."

Kurt stared down at his hands, intertwined with Greg's. "What kind of person do you think is right for me?" he asked, his voice sounding strange to his own ears.

Greg smiled at him, but this time it was a different smile than Kurt had ever seen before. It was, somehow, hungrier. "You need a real man. Not some head-in-the-clouds idealist little boy. You're better than that, Kurt."

Kurt considered this, quiet, for a long while. "Maybe you're right." Blaine was kind of goofy and childish sometimes, and it seemed sometimes like he had no idea how the world  _really_ worked. Not like some people. Not like  _Greg_.

Greg gave his hand a squeeze. "I  _know_ I'm right."

* * *

In retrospect, he knew he should have gotten away sooner. But there was something about Greg that kept him coming back, hungry for more. When Greg was making him feel like the most important person in the world, Kurt could forget that he was kind of a douchebag, that he made him cry about everything from his taste in Starbucks to his taste in suits, that he had cheated on him no less than fifty times in the thirteen years they had been together before. When Greg was making him feel like the most important person in the world, it seemed like those things were worth the pain and stress they caused him. He couldn't get enough.

But Blaine had made him feel that way too, and Blaine had never made him feel like he was worthless or stupid. Blaine had never done anything but love him in his loyal, sweet way. He wasn't as successful as Greg, he wasn't as powerful or influential, but he had always loved Kurt in his simple, honest, and true way. He had always supported him. He'd never told him to wear one thing and then change his mind, and most importantly, he had never cheated on him.

Greg hadn't called in three days, and Kurt knew that he was probably with some shinier model, some other rosy cheeked idealistic boy that he would use and discard. He would be back in a few days, or a few weeks, when the mood suited him, of course, and Kurt would take him back, of course, like the idiot that he was, because no matter how much he hurt him, Kurt could never get enough.

He sunk against the wall of his apartment, tears sticking in his throat, unable to catch his breath. He couldn't go back to Blaine now, even if he had wanted to. Greg had ruined him. How could anyone  _but_ Greg love him now that he was so broken?

Burying his head in his hands, Kurt finally allowed himself to cry for the first time since the night at the restaurant weeks before. He had hit rock bottom, and this time, he had no idea how to bounce back.

 


	7. Truth Begins

_This is where the truth begins_

_Where teardrops glance the sallow skin_

_You lose your will and I can lend you mine_

_The west way walls so tall and bleak_

_Reflect the words we dare not speak_

_By the bottle's end we may have done our time_

_What you want's to stay away from people like me_

_Who twist most everything they see_

_and leave the grey old world behind you_

_So sew it up, kid, have some clout_

_We'll do some wine and fall about_

_The sun will shine again tomorrow._

~Dirty Pretty Things,  _Truth Begins_

Kurt hadn't been back to Lima for Christmas in thirteen years. The first year, he and Blaine had hosted his dad, Carol, and Finn (which had, in true Finn and Rachel fashion, ended rather dramatically) but every year after that, he had been busy or Greg had been busy and it hardly seemed worth it. But this year, he had vacation that he had to take, and right then, no place seemed better than the sanctuary of his father's house.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" he asked Rachel, zipping the last of his meticulously chosen and even more meticulously wrapped presents into his carry on. "because you could. It turns out that Lima, Ohio isn't exactly most people's ideal winter getaway and the flight was unbelievably cheap."

Rachel smiled, shaking her head. "Unlike you, I don't have any plans of rekindling old romantic feelings."

"He's married anyway," Kurt replied with a little smile. "They have three little kids. Wish me luck."

"Oh lord." Rachel rolled her eyes. "Bullet dodged."

"Right?" he scanned the apartment, looking for things he might have forgotten. "Okay. I think that's everything. I love you. I'll see you when I get back." he hugged Rachel tight and then was seized by a sudden inspiration, dashing to his bedroom and coming back with Rachel's present, tied with a ribbon, a key laced through it. "I almost forgot."

Rachel took the present, fingering the key, and then, suddenly, recognition dawned. "Kurt," she said softly, eyes lighting up. "Did you...?"

Kurt suddenly felt slightly embarrassed. "It's a start."

Rachel hugged him tight, almost unwilling to let him go. "I love you."

When she finally let him go, Kurt turned to open the door. "Thanks," he said, "For not giving up on me."

It had been a hard decision. In fact, he had only called the locksmith the day before, after waffling for weeks, but he knew it had to happen, and as soon as it had, he felt at least a little better. Greg hadn't called or been by in almost a month and Kurt was sure he wasn't coming back, but he wasn't taking any chances. He had spent the last three weeks picking up the pieces, changing the locks, booking his trip, calling a therapist, pouring himself into work and Rachel and trying to remember what normal felt like.

He hadn't talked to Blaine yet. At first, he wasn't sure what he had been waiting for, but now he knew. As he sat in the airport waiting for his flight, he unzipped his carry on, checking for the small, gold-wrapped present, a kind of nervous excitement settling in the pit of his stomach. It might have been too late, but he needed to try, if only to get some closure.

* * *

"Do you remember the words?" Blaine tied a plaid ribbon around the top of one of Annika's pigtails, then another. Annika squirmed, then nodded, singing him the first few bars of the song she was going to sing at the winter pageant.

"Very good!" Blaine kissed the too of her head, straightening the collar of her dress. "You're going to be great."

Annika pouted. "I want to be the snowflake princess," she whined. The snowflake princess wore a sparkling gown, and when she raised her magic wand, glittering snowflakes fell from the ceiling, bringing winter back to the town of Winterland.

Blaine held Annika's shoulders. "You were chosen to be Sally Snow for a reason, Annika. Do you know why?"

Annika tried to cross her arms. "Because Lily is prettier than I am," she grumbled.

Blaine shook his head. "Nope. Not true. You were chosen to be Sally Snow because Sally Snow has a very important job to do. Do you remember what that is?"

"She sings the snowflake song and summons the princess," Annika recited.

"That's right." Blaine nodded. "And you were chosen to be Sally Snow because Sally Snow has the most beautiful voice in all of Winterland, and you have the most beautiful voice in your whole class."

Annika's eyes twinkled. "Really?"

Blaine nodded. "Absolutely. And you know what? I'd rather have a beautiful voice than a beautiful dress any day of the week."

Annika giggled. "You don't wear dresses, daddy!"

Blaine winked. "Even if I did, I'd still choose to have a beautiful voice. So go out there and knock 'em dead, baby girl. Make your daddy proud."

Annika looked determined. "I'll try."

Blaine kissed her nose. "You will, my baby. You always do."

If you asked Blaine, the show was a success. The snowflake princess's dress was resplendent, the kids knew all their lines, and nobody threw up, but it was Sally Snow, he thought, that really stole the show, and by the sounds of what the other parents were saying, he wasn't the only one who thought so. "The little girl who played Sally was just darling," one of the grandmothers was saying. "And such a sweet voice!"

Blaine waved his hands to get their attention. "That one is mine! Sally Snow, that's my daughter!"

The woman turned to him, smiling. "Oh, she's beautiful. You must be so proud."

Blaine positively beamed. "You have no idea." Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Annika talking to one of her teachers. "Excuse me." He headed over to her, grinning, and handed her the bouquet of pink and white roses he had picked up before the show and stored in the trunk of his car. She squealed, flinging her arms around his neck. "Did I do good?" she asked, eyes sparkling with excitement. Blaine scooped her up, hugging her tight. "You were the  _best_ ," he promised, kissing her cheek. "I am so proud of you!" He set her back down on the ground and held out his hand for her to walk back to her cubby to get her jacket and boots. "Daddy," she said, clutching the bouquet to her chest, "I'm really glad everybody got to hear me sing. I wasn't even nervous!"

"That's because you're a star," he said, beaming down at her. "I'm so proud of you for getting up there and doing that. It's a very brave thing."

Annika nodded, sitting down on the floor in front of her cubby to pull on her boots. "I want to do that  _every day_ and then get really famous and have my own TV show," she declared.

Blaine smiled, holding open her coat for her. "Why don't we work on finishing first grade and then we'll talk about that, okay?"

Annika shrugged into her coat, lifting up her chin so Blaine could do up the zipper. "Don't worry, Daddy. When I move away, you can come with me."

Blaine zipped up her coat and gave her a kiss on the nose, shaking his head. "Let's talk about this when you're a teenager," he said, smiling and taking her hand to walk out of the school.

"Daddy," Annika said once they were in the car, headed toward home, after she had been quiet for so long that Blaine thought she had fallen asleep. "What do you want Santa to bring you?"

The question made Blaine pause and glance up at her in the rear-view mirror. "You know, I haven't really thought about it."

Annika leaned her head against her car seat. "You want it to be a surprise?"

Blaine nodded. "I think Santa is going to surprise me this year."

Satisfied, Annika closed her eyes. "Me too," she agreed, and then she was quiet again.

* * *

Burt and Carole were waiting at the airport when Kurt got off the plane, and he could barely resist the temptation to drop his suitcase and run over to them like he was a little kid, although he couldn't resist the temptation to give his father a giant hug. He had only had minimal contact with his family in the past thirteen years-after he and Blaine had broken up, he had a blow out with his father, who had insisted that he was doing the wrong thing, and he had decided it was best to cut his losses and keep a distance-a stance that Greg had, of course, agreed with. So it felt good to know that even after years of sporadic contact and chilliness, his dad, at least, loved him just the same.

"How was the flight? Okay?" Carole asked when Kurt and Burt finally pulled away from each other, reaching to give Kurt a hug of her own.

"Okay," Kurt agreed. "Quiet, thankfully. Rachel sends her love."

"We're really glad you decided to come, son," Burt said, picking up Kurt's suitcase and heading back toward the exit.

Kurt took a deep breath, feeling tears catch in his throat. "I'm really glad I decided to come, too," he said, voice soft. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

Burt turned to look at him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, son," he said, a response to the words Kurt couldn't say, and Kurt found himself having to fight back tears for the second time since getting off the plane. It should have made him wish he had never come, but instead it filled him with an absurd sort of relief. Being back here, he thought, was going to be good for him.

Once they arrived back at the house, however, he retreated to the guest bedroom, citing that he still had a few last-minute gifts to wrap, and immediately pulled the card Blaine had written his phone number on all those months ago out of the pocket of his carry on. He held it in his hands for a few long moments, turning it over, tracing the numbers with his finger before finally picking up his cell phone, heart thrumming in his chest. It rang once, twice, three times, and then..." _Hey! You have reached Blaine and Annika Anderson_

_at 614 545 6779. We're sorry we missed you, but if you leave a brief but detailed message with your name and number..."_ Sighing, Kurt hung up without leaving a message, just in time for Carole to knock on his door. "Finn, Laura, and the kids are here if you want to come say hi!"

That seemed like a worthy enough distraction for the time being, so Kurt got up, stashing his phone in the desk drawer and coming out of the bedroom. He was immediately greeted with the sound of loudly chattering children, all of them vying for the attention of "Grandpa! Grandpa!", and it made his heart ache momentarily for what he could have had, thinking of Blaine and Annika, but he didn't let the feeling last very long. His therapist had told him at their first meeting that he had to stop wondering what could have been now and start focusing on the future, which he could change, instead of the past that he could not.

"Kurt!" Finn waved. "Dad told me you were here. It's good to see you, buddy, how you been?"

_Dad? When did_ that  _happen?_ Kurt wondered, but didn't dwell on it too long, instead focusing on the fact that Finn looked  _exactly the same_  as he had the last time they had seen each other. A little older, perhaps, but still boyish and gigantic and vaguely confused, and filled Kurt with a sense of relief that at least some things in his life had stayed static. "Hey! I'm...okay. It's good to see you again! Dad said you were coming. This must be your wife!"

Beaming with pride, Finn wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders. She was small and pretty, dark hair swept up in a neat updo. She looked, Kurt reflected, like a combination between pre-teenage-pregnancy Quinn and Rachel, and it made him smile. "This is Laura," Finn said, "And these are our kids. Lila is nine, Nicky is six, and Kaylynn is three. Kids," he called. "Come say hi to your uncle Kurt."

_Uncle Kurt. I could get used to that,_ Kurt thought, smiling broadly as he greeted the kids and shook Laura's hand. As his dad set to work getting beer and glasses of wine and Carole set to work getting the last of dinner set up and the kids set to work asking him a million questions about New York, Kurt thought that he could get used to family life.

* * *

Christmas was always a big deal in the Anderson household. Blaine had grown up in a house where Christmas would have almost passed unnoticed if he had let it, and he had always said that when he had children, he would make sure that they had the best Christmas of their lives every year, and when Annika was born, he made sure that he would make good on that promise to himself. In the beginning, it had been more for him than it was for her, but as she grew, she learned to love the magic as much as he did, and it made all of his efforts seem worth it to watch her face light up with pure joy.

"Daddy!" Annika poked him in the cheek. "Daddy, Santa was here!"

Blaine opened one eye blearily. The digital clock behind Annika told him it was 4:45, and his first instinct was to invite her into bed and tell her to go back to sleep, but her face was all bright with anticipation, and he knew neither of them were going to get very much more sleep anyway. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he smiled at her, reaching for her hand. "Did he?" he asked in his "this is so exciting!" voice. "Let's go see what he brought!"

" _Lots_ of stuff!" Annika enthused. "And he eated the cookies and the reindeer eated the oats and there's  _lots_ of presents!"

"Wow!" Blaine exclaimed. "Well, you were a very good girl this year. I'm glad Santa noticed!"

"Me too," Annika agreed. "I was trying really hard. Even when I wanted to be bad."

"I think," Blaine said thoughtfully as they both took their usual present-opening positions in the living room, "that even if you weren't always  _super_ good, Santa would see how hard you tried and reward you for your efforts. Don't you think?"

Annika considered. "As long as I get presents," she decided. Blaine tried not to laugh as he picked up her the first present. "You know that's not the  _only_ thing Christmas is about, right, Anni?"

Annika rolled her eyes, and in that moment, Blaine saw her as a teenager, annoyed with him for not letting her borrow the car or make out with her boyfriend with the door closed, and it made his throat get tight. "No, Daddy," she replied, back to his little girl again. "It's also about family and love and magic. But also it's about presents a little bit."

Blaine leaned over to kiss her cheek as he handed her the first present. "That's right. Now...open those presents!"

Forty-five minutes later, the living room looked like FAO Schwarz had exploded on it, and Annika was passed out in the middle of it from the dual sugar and adrenaline crashes, and Blaine scooped her up, carrying her back to bed with him as the first light of the day crept over the trees.

When they woke five hours later, the first words out of Annika's mouth were, "Daddy! Santa forgot to bring your surprise!"

Blaine stretched, blinking, trying to get his bearings back. "What's that?"

"Your surprise!" Annika insisted, her eyes wide. "'Member? You said you thought that Santa was going to surprise you this year but you didn't have  _any_ presents from Santa, just from me and Nana and Pop and Uncle David and Uncle Wes and Aunt Nina!"

Oh. Blaine sat up, reaching to pull Annika into a hug. "It's okay," he reassured her. "Sometimes Santa forgets the grown ups because he's so busy focusing on the kids. But you know what? Today isn't over yet. Santa still has lots of time to surprise Daddy if he wants to."

Satisfied, Annika hopped out of bed, a bundle of energy although she'd only been awake but five minutes, and ran downstairs to play, Blaine following after, wondering what he had gotten himself into by saying that.

* * *

Christmas with children in the house, Kurt was quickly learning, was a totally different ball game than Christmas with adults. He and Greg had always kept things low-key-exchanged their presents and had dinner with Greg's work friends, nothing exciting-but this was a flurry of excitement and noise and wrapping paper flying in all directions, and as much as it gave him a headache, Kurt felt oddly at peace with it, patiently fielding every "Uncle Kurt, look!" with as much enthusiasm as he could muster at 8 am. This was, he realized, what having a family was about. It had been so long since he had been a part of something like this that he had almost forgotten how wonderful it could be.

However, by the time dinner was over, he had about all of playing Uncle Kurt that he could handle, and he slipped into the kitchen where his father and Carole were tidying up. "I'm going to go for a drive," he told them. He knew they had questions, but he couldn't answer them until he did this. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"Have fun," Burt replied, as though Kurt was a teenager, and it made him smile.

"Thanks, dad. I'll see you in a little while."

Once he was in the car, he glanced at the clock on the dashboard. 7:30. It took about an hour to get to Westerville, by his calculations, and Annika's bedtime was at eight. That gave him plenty of time. His heart pounding in his chest, he pulled out of the driveway, heading out of the city and onto the highway, hoping that Blaine had meant it when he said that he'd always be there.

* * *

There was a strange car parked on the street in front of the house when Blaine came down from putting Annika to bed, but he didn't think anything of it at first. It was Christmas, after all, and the neighbors were probably entertaining. He was halfway to the living room to finish cleaning up the last of the Christmas debris when the doorbell rang, and he froze. Nina was in Los Angeles visiting her family, and David and Wes weren't coming by until tomorrow, and he briefly entertained the idea that it was a serial killer, even though he knew on a logical level that a serial killer wasn't going to  _knock_ , for God's sake.

A serial killer would have, however, been less surprising than what actually stood before him when he opened the door.

"Hi." Kurt raised the hand that wasn't clutching a little box like it was his lifeline in greeting. "I...I need to talk to you. Can I come in?"

Blaine stood there, dumbfounded. Maybe, he thought, Santa hadn't forgotten him after all.

 


	8. Friends

Blaine stood in the doorway, dumbfounded. "Kurt?" he asked stupidly, then nodded. "Of course! Come in. What are you doing here? Can I get you anything?"

Kurt shook his head, stepping into the foyer, looking childishly uncertain, kicking off his shoes. "Visiting my dad. I'm okay, thanks." Blaine poured them both a glass of wine anyway, trying to quell his nervousness. "Let's go sit in the living room," he suggested, installing himself on the sofa and looking up at Kurt. Kurt came over, sitting next to him, and took a deep breath. "After I went back to New York, I got back together with Greg."

Blaine blinked. "Okay," he said slowly, trying to figure out why this mattered to him.

"And this time, I realized something," Kurt continued. "I realized that maybe what everyone was saying about him was true. I realized what kind of...of control he had over my life." He took a shuddering breath, and Blaine reached over, putting a hand on his thigh. It was such a simple, reassuring gesture that Kurt was completely unsurprised when he started to cry. "And I realized that I  _liked_  it. Because you know, after I decided to give up on Broadway, I felt pretty useless. That was the one thing I thought I was truly good at, and I turned out not to be very good at all, and I had to start over. It was hard, Blaine. Before that I'd always known what I wanted and how to get it and it was all so new to me, but Greg made me feel like I was worth something. He made me feel like I could do this and be good at it. He made me forget that I was just...just some nobody from Ohio."

Blaine was, not for the first time, dumbfounded. "Kurt," he said softly, "Why didn't you tell me how you felt? I could have helped you! I thought you were okay."

"I didn't think you mattered," Kurt confessed. "Well, I mean, I thought that you just sort of had an obligation to tell me I was special." he looked down, feeling ashamed of himself, and reflected that his therapist would be proud of him. "So when Greg started treating me like I was someone worth something, someone special, I let myself get caught up in it." he looked up at Blaine, trying to gauge his reaction. Blaine looked, by all accounts, like a kicked puppy, his eyes wide with the revelation, but he didn't look angry, and he hadn't moved, his hand still on Kurt's thigh, so Kurt kept talking. "I didn't realize how dangerous it was until I had been away from it for awhile. He...he was trying to make me fit into this...idea he had of me. He was trying to control every aspect of our relationship, and I felt a little part of myself giving way whenever we were together until I didn't even know who I was anymore." He was really crying now, but it felt good, cathartic, like a release. "I'm sorry, Blaine. I was so busy being self absorbed that I ignored everybody and everything that I loved and who loved me until I had nothing left. And...I want you to forgive me. I do. But I understand if you won't. I don't expect anything from you, but I could...I could really use a friend right now, and you said in your email that you'd always be there if I needed you, and I kind of need you right now."

Blaine's head was spinning, and he kind of felt like the worst person in the world. All this time, he'd thought that Kurt had just been being selfishly misguided, ignoring the good things he had going for him in favor of something newer and more exciting, no better than the man who had turned around and done the same thing to him, and now he wasn't sure what to think, so he didn't. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Kurt, holding him tight, stroking his hair as he cried steadily. "It's okay," he assured him. "It's okay, Kurt. It's okay. I'm here. It's okay."

They stayed this way for several long minutes until Kurt had finally cried himself out, and he looked up, sniffling. "I'm sorry," he said, sitting up.

Blaine shook his head. "No, don't be sorry!" he offered Kurt a crumpled tissue from his pocket. "I'm glad you felt safe enough to tell me. If anything, I'm sorry for not realizing it sooner."

"I kind of didn't give you the opportunity," Kurt admitted. "But...I'm here until January 8th, and...I'd really like to see you again before I leave, if you're okay with that?"

If he was okay with that. Blaine was well beyond okay with that. He was ecstatic about that, actually. He nodded, reached for Kurt's hand. "I want to be your friend," he said. "I'd like to help you heal in any way I can. Just name the time and place and I'll be there, even if it means going into Lima."

Kurt picked up his wine glass, a sense of calm beginning to creep over him, and he sat in contented silence for awhile before asking, "Blaine?"

"Hm." Blaine had been idly playing with the edge of Kurt's shirt, a gesture even Kurt hadn't registered until just now, contented as he was.

"Do you forgive me?" he asked.

It took Blaine a moment, but his voice was unwavering. "It wasn't your fault."

"In the beginning it was."

Blaine shook his head. "No. It wasn't. But yes, of course I do."

This time it was Kurt's turn to give his hand a squeeze. "Thank you."

It was half past eleven when Kurt got back to Lima, and his father was sitting alone in the living room, reading a car magazine.

"Where is everybody?" Kurt asked, voice just above a whisper.

"Bed," his father replied, closing the magazine and looking up at him. "Did you have a good drive?"

"I did. Are you going to bed, dad?"

"Now that you're home, I was thinking about it."

He had waited up for him. The idea gave Kurt a strange hollow feeling in his chest. "Can I talk to you a minute first?"

Burt settled back in his chair. "Of course, son."

For a moment, Kurt wished that they were in his garage-it had always seemed easier to talk in there-but he sat down in front of his father and took a deep breath. "After Blaine and I broke up, I started seeing this guy named Greg," he began, and the words came easily after that, tumbling out in a rush.

He told him everything. The fights, the subtle manipulation, every time Greg had cheated on him, the ever growing sense of defeat, of losing himself. He told him about breaking up with Greg the first time, told him about interviewing Blaine, about getting back together with Greg, about hitting rock bottom and how he was trying to fix it. He talked until there was nothing else to say, and then, when he was sure he had said everything that needed to be said, he finally looked up and made eye contact with his father, who was sitting silently in his chair, seemingly lost for words. Kurt thought he could detect tears in his eyes.

"Son," he said finally. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Kurt looked helpless. "I...I thought I was okay until a few weeks ago, I guess. Or at least, I thought that I could handle it on my own. I had cut you off for so long, I didn't want this to be the way it happened. I'm sorry, dad."

His father rested a hand on his arm for a split second and then stood, pulling him into a hug. "You don't have to apologize for letting it get out of control. I'm just glad you got out of there before it was too late."

Kurt swallowed hard. "Yeah," he agreed. "Me too. Goodnight, dad."

Burt smiled at him. "Goodnight, son. See you tomorrow."

* * *

Blaine had completely forgotten about Kurt's present until he spotted it on the end table in the foyer as he walked past on his way upstairs. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands, and then brought it back into the living room, unwrapping it slowly. In the box was a thin leather cuff with a silver faceplate like an ID bracelet, but instead of having his name, it was inscribed with a single word:  _courage_. Tears threatened to well up in Blaine's throat as he pulled out the note that was nestled in the bottom of the tissue paper. "You always gave me the courage I needed to survive," it said in Kurt's handwriting. "I thought it was about time I returned the favor."

He took several deep breaths, a few tears managing to escape as he slipped the cuff on. He wiped them away, tucking the note back into the box and heading upstairs to bed, a smile on his face.

"Daddy!" Annika said, surprised, as Blaine handed her her breakfast the next morning. "Where did you get that?"

"Oh." Blaine touched the cuff. "This?"

Annika nodded, and Blaine beamed widely. "Santa brought it for me."

Annika squeaked in excitement. "I knew he was bringing you a surprise! I just knew! Did you see him, daddy? Did you talk to him?"

"Nope," Blaine sat down across from her, starting on his own cereal. "He sent one of his helpers. Sorry, baby. Maybe next year."

Annika pouted, disappointed, but brightened somewhat after a moment. "Maybe Lila saw him. I'll ask her when she comes over tonight."

"That's a good idea," Blaine agreed. "Now finish up, we've got lots to do before they come."

The rest of the day was spent in a rush of running around and preparing things for the annual Warbler Family Christmas Dinner, a flurry of activity and trying to find a grocery store that was not only open but also still had stovetop stuffing after an unfortunate incident rendered his attempt inedible, and he barely had time to think about else. Although the dinner was in its tenth year, it was only the second time Blaine had hosted, and it was a lot more work than he had remembered. Of course, the last time he had hosted, nobody had been married or had children, and now they all did, except for Thad, who claimed he was going to stay single forever.

They had made it their tradition the year after Blaine came back to Westerville, after deciding that they couldn't lose touch with each other, and every year on December 26th, they made the pilgrimage from wherever they happened to be at the time. In some ways, they were the only family Blaine had-after he had moved, his father had decided it best if he didn't speak to his parents anymore, and although they had reconciled after Annika was born, it was stilted at best, and family, Blaine thought, was worth the effort. He had briefly toyed with the idea of inviting Kurt-he was in the area, after all, and he had been a Warbler, however briefly-but he thought that would be a little too much for both of them yet, so instead he shot him a quick text as he was getting dressed, "anni has art camp nxt week, coffee?" before going to help Annika with her tights, humming cheerfully to himself.

David and his family arrived first, the rest of them arriving shortly thereafter, the house erupting into a flurry of chatter and laughter and music as everyone got acquainted with one another again after a year. Nick's wife had just had a baby and Trent's wife was due any day now. Annika, Lila, and Max were thrilled to see the rest of the kids, and they soon disappeared off to the playroom to compare respective present hauls. Blaine was in the middle of it all, grinning, completely content with the world for the time being.

He had almost forgotten about the bracelet until they had sat down to eat and Lila pointed it out. "Uncle Blaine, what's that?" she asked, and Blaine took it off to let her have a look. "Santa brought it," he replied, smiling.

"Oooh." Lila turned it over in her hands, examining it, and then handed it to David. "What does it say, daddy?"

David looked at it for a moment. "'courage'," he read, giving Blaine a look that said 'we need to talk when everyone leaves' and then smiling at Lila. "You give that back to Uncle Blaine now, and don't forget to say thank you."

Lila handed it back to Blaine. "Thanks, uncle Blaine."

Blaine grinned. "No problem, buddy. Who wants dessert?"

* * *

All too soon, the night was over and everyone was heading back to their respective homes or hotel rooms, hugging and promising that next year would be even better, and David chose to take this opportunity to corner Blaine.

"Santa Claus," he said, raising his eyebrow.

Blaine fiddled with the cuff. "Kurt's in Lima," he explained. "We talked last night."

"I thought you were over him." Blaine was certain he could hear a note of disapproval in David's voice.

"I-we-what? No. No, no, it's not like that." Blaine ran his fingers through his hair, A few stray curls springing loose. "He-that's the last thing he needs, actually. We're friends. Nothing more than that. I would be doing him a huge disservice right now by trying to pursue him. This..." he waved his hand around. "Was a gesture of reconciliation, I guess you could say."

David looked skeptical. "I just don't want you jumping into this trusting your heart over your head and getting burned like last time."

Blaine was growing frustrated. He wasn't sure how much Kurt would want him blabbing to his friends about what he had told him, but it was hard to explain to his friends how wrong they had actually been about Kurt's thoughts and feelings back then without it. "It's different than we thought it was," he settled on. "But I promise you that I'm not going to do anything stupid, and that I'll keep you informed. Okay?"

David gave him a quick hug. "I just worry about you."

Blaine gave him a patient smile. "You have nothing to worry about."

* * *

Blaine was sitting at a table near the back of the Starbucks that had replaced the Lima Bean god-only-knows how many years before, flicking through a magazine with two cups of coffee in front of him by the time Kurt arrived, sliding into the booth, apologizing. "I almost drove past it," he explained, picking up the cup that wasn't in front of Blaine and studying it, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I don't order this anymore," he admitted, "but I'm impressed you remembered."

"Sorry." Blaine gave him a crooked, apologetic smile. "I toyed with the idea of waiting, but I wanted to surprise you."

"You have lots of time to re-learn my drink order," Kurt assured him, smiling in a way that made Blaine feel like he was a teenager again, when he had wanted to know everything about this wonderful, ambitious boy. He leaned forward slightly, playing with the rim of his coffee cup. "Tell me about work."

Kurt's face lit up, and immediately Blaine was pleased with himself for asking. "It's great! I've been working there for..." he thought. "Seven years now. Just about eight. I had actually interned for them just after you left, and I know it wasn't exactly  _Vogue,_ but I really loved working there, and I just never left. Or wanted to leave. I'm the head of my department-life and style-now, and I'd really like to be the editor-in-chief someday."

Listening to him, hearing his voice, his enthusiasm and passion for his job reminded Blaine, for the first time that he could remember, of the Kurt he had known all those years ago, the Kurt he had known was in there all along. He couldn't help smiling. "Isn't it funny how often the things that you didn't really expect were the things that made you happiest? Like, I never would have thought that I'd be doing what I'm doing, but I also can't imagine anything making me happier, you know?"

Kurt nodded. "Oh, definitely. But people don't realize that, and so they miss their calling."

"And then they wonder why they're miserable," Blaine agreed.

Kurt was quiet a moment, and Blaine worried he had said something wrong, but then he spoke again. "Or people get so caught up in the pursuit of their dream that they don't even realize that they're miserable until it's too late."

Blaine reached to put a hand on Kurt's wrist. "It's never too late," he assured him. "There's always time to fix things if you really want to."

Time seemed to fly by, talking about everything from their jobs to Annika to the millions of other little things they both had been dying to tell each other for thirteen years and never had the opportunity, until suddenly it was 1:30 and they had been sitting there for four hours and Blaine only had an hour and a half before Annika was done at camp, so he had to go home, and all too soon they were hugging goodbye-with only the tiniest hint of awkwardness-and promising to meet up again for dinner and more catching up before Kurt went back to New York. As he watched Blaine's car pull away, he couldn't help thinking that rekindling this friendship was one of the best decisions he had made in a very, very long time. It felt good to have someone who wanted to listen, who was really, truly interested in everything he had to say, who cared about him and his life and his goals. It felt good, he thought, to have a real friend.

 


	9. Hurricane

_You're the finest thing that I've done_

_The hurricane I'll never outrun_

_I could wait around for the dust to still, but I don't believe that it ever will._

~The Hush Sound,  _Hurricane_

_More good news from GSDVille! I have been asked to speak at the Blissdom conference in New York City from March 17 to 22! Longtime readers will remember my previous relationship with New York...this is my first time going back, and it's sure to be a grand adventure as usual. I will be speaking about blogging, parenthood, and identity (to the surprise of absolutely nobody), and I would love to see you there! You can visit Blissdom's website here for tickets and information, and email me on the contact page if you want info on the GSD after party. See you there!_

"Annika, daddy is going to go away for a little next week, and you're going to stay with Lila and Max's house, how does that sound?" Blaine handed her a hot chocolate as she got in the car, and Annika gave him a wary look.

"How many sleeps?" she asked.

"Five," Blaine replied. "It'll be over before you know it."

Annika frowned. "Five sleeps is a long time. I don't want you to go. How about only one sleep, or two?"

Blaine shook his head apologetically. "Sorry, sweetie. It's non-negotiable. It's part of my job, even though I know you don't like it."

"What's non-negoatable?" Annika asked, sipping her hot chocolate.

"Negotiable," Blaine laughed. "It means that we can't discuss it, it's just going to happen that way."

"Oh," Annika thought about this. "Like not having a mommy."

Blaine sighed. Annika had been stuck on the subject of having a mommy for weeks now. "Right. Like not having a mommy."

Still pouting, Annika focused on drinking her hot chocolate. They were nearly home by the time she spoke again. "Daddy?"

Blaine glanced at her in the rear view mirror. "Hm."

"Are you going to come back?"

Blaine's hands froze on the steering wheel. "Is that what you're afraid of?" he asked. "Daddy not coming back?"

Sheepishly, Annika nodded, and Blaine sighed. "Baby, listen. Daddy will never leave you. I might go away for a little while, but I will always come back home, do you understand me?"

Annika popped her thumb in her mouth. "How come my other daddy went away?"

Blaine's hands froze on the steering wheel. She had never seemed to care about her other father, and he'd hoped he'd never have to have this conversation with her. Running a hand through his hair, he looked back at her in the rear view mirror. "Annika," he began, "Sometimes grown ups don't make good choices for them, and then they have consequences that they have to deal with. Do you remember what consequences are?"

Annika nodded, so Blaine continued. "Your other decided that he didn't want to have a family, but instead of handling the consequences, he decided to go away. But you know what? If he was really your daddy-if he really loved you like a daddy is supposed to love his little girl-he wouldn't have done that, so don't even worry about him, okay?"

"Okay," Annika agreed.

Blaine smiled. "Daddy will be back before you know it," he promised. "You'll be having so much fun with Max and Lila you won't even know I'm gone."

* * *

"Stop it." Rachel unplugged the vacuum, grabbing Kurt's arm as he went to plug it back in. "How many times have you done that today?"

"Three." Kurt pulled his arm away. "I keep missing spots."

"Kurt." Rachel held his hands in hers. "Blaine is not going to care that the carpet is perfectly vacuumed. Blaine is going to appreciate that you put that effort in, and he's going to be happy that you wanted to see him. Stop stressing yourself out. He's not Greg."

"I know," Kurt relented. "I guess it's just calming me down. You know, giving me a sense of purpose instead of just pacing around."

Rachel pulled him into a hug. "What does the timeline look like?" she asked.

Kurt checked his watch. "He's speaking right now. He gets done at 7:30 and then he's going to come down here and we're going to get dinner or something, and then he invited me to the after party back at the conference but I said we'd play it by ear."

Rachel smiled. "Are you excited?"

Kurt let out his breath. "You have no idea."

* * *

Even though he technically spoke to millions of people every time he updated his blog, it never failed to stun Blaine how many people wanted to listen to him when he made public appearances.

The conference room at the Ritz Carlton sat 500, and every seat was full. Nina said they had booked another room for people to watch a stream, plus they had it on the Blissdom website. Blaine figured there were at least three times as many people watching him right now as were standing in this room.

When the AV technician gave him the thumbs up, Blaine took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage. "Hi!" he said cheerfully, waving, much to the amusement of the crowd. "My name is Blaine, and I write a blog called Confessions of a Gay Single Dad. I'm going to give my talk and them we'll open the floor for questions. How does that sound?"" Applause. Blaine could feel the tips of his ears start to heat up. "I started to write my blog when my daughter, Annika, was two years old. She'll be seven in a couple of months now. When I first started writing, I had just gotten divorced from someone I thought I would be with for the rest of my life, and I was totally lost and heartbroken. I was always a big proponent of happy endings as a kid, you know? And this was about as far from a happy ending as I could have gotten. So I started to write as a way to channel my feelings, to sort them out, and I guess it kind of exploded." Laughter. Blaine beamed, continuing. "I started getting more readers, and there was this period of time where I wondered, you know, were my kid and I really that interesting? But I was also getting a ton of feedback, and it was all saying sort of the same thing-that I was helping people, in one way or the other. I was helping gay teenagers whose mothers read the blog to see that their lives might feel small and lonely right then that they could have families and joy and satisfaction out of life the same way as anyone else. I was helping single parents to feel less alone. I was even helping people who might have formerly held...less than favorable opinions of gay people to change their perspective. And you know what? That completely blew me away. I was writing to help myself, and as I did that, I was helping others. It's an incredible feeling, and I think that's what blogging is really about-creating a community of support and love, a family, if you will. When I was growing up, I wanted to be a performer-a singer-more than anything in the world. I wanted to stand in front of a crowd and do what I loved best in the world, and know that I was having an impact on those people, the way that my favorite performers had an impact on me. And, well..." he gestured, beaming. More laughter. "I'm very fortunate that I get to make a living off of this, and that it has opened so many opportunities for both myself and my daughter, but that's not why I do it. I do it because I feel like I'm changing lives-mine and others-with my words, with the community I've created. That's the message I want you to take away from this conference-blogging isn't about money, it's about creating a community, it's about helping others in some small way. If you write a blog, or you're thinking about it, but you're afraid it won't be 'successful', I urge you to do it. Because even if you don't reach millions of people, you will reach one, and that's what really matters."

The room erupted into applause, and Blaine gave a little bow, beaming. "I think it's time for questions."

He was having so much fun answering questions and meeting blog readers (and giving hugs. Lots of hugs.) that the next time he thought to look at his watch, on a bathroom break, it was already 7:15. "Shit!" giving himself a quick once-over, he sent a text to Nina (who was still in the conference room) to tell her that he needed to make an emergency exit and to tell everyone he was sorry and that he'd see them at the party, dashing out the door and flagging a cab, giving them Kurt's address, shoving all the money he had in his wallet at the driver. "Get me there as fast as you can. Please."

The cab driver gave him a dubious look. "Even going as fast as I can, it's gonna take me at least half an hour."

Blaine fastened his seatbelt. "Less talking, more driving."

* * *

He wasn't coming. He wasn't coming. He wasn't coming. Kurt glanced at the clock. 7:35. He wasn't coming. What if he had been in a horrible accident? What if he had changed his mind? What if...? 7:36, 37, 38, 39. At 7:40, he was just about to call Rachel in a panic when the buzzer rang.

"It's me." Blaine's breathless voice. "Sorry I'm late."

Relief flooded through Kurt's body as he buzzed him in. He had just been delayed. Of course. It had been so foolish of him to worry.

A minute or so later, there was a knock at the door, and Kurt opened the door to find Blaine standing there, in one of his ridiculous bow tie and cardigan getups, his immaculate hair looking a little disheveled from running, smiling that sweet, apologetic smile that absolutely melted Kurt's heart. He looked just like Kurt could remember him looking when they'd first met, and it caused a swell of emotion in his chest. 'You are in control of this relationship,' Elena's voice told him. 'It is whatever you make it.'

Giddy anticipation rose in Kurt's chest as he stepped forward into the doorway with Blaine. He took a breath like he was going to say something, and then reached for him, pulling him into a kiss, hand coming up to Blaine's cheek, holding him in place gently. But Blaine didn't try to move away. He stood perfectly still at first, but eventually his hand came up to rest on Kurt's waist, kissing back with equal fervor.

* * *

Whatever Blaine had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. He froze when Kurt grabbed him, standing perfectly still while his brain attempted to figure out what was going on and how to deal with it. He had wanted this for so long, and his heart felt like it was going to either beat right out of his chest or explode with happiness, and then he was kissing back, his hand going to Kurt's waist, kissing him with everything he had.

It wasn't until the tip of Blaine's tongue brushed against Kurt's bottom lip that Kurt finally pulled away, slightly breathless and tousled. "So!" he said, his voice unusually bright. "Let's go get something to eat!"

* * *

Kurt probably would have stood there in that doorway and kissed Blaine forever, but the Blaine's tongue was brushing against his bottom lip, and he realized that if he did that, it was only going to escalate, and he wasn't ready for that just yet, so instead he pulled back and suggested that they go eat if they wanted to make it to the after party.

They didn't speak of the kiss again. Not that they had much time-at dinner, Blaine talked about the conference and Kurt talked about work, and then the party was a blur of alcohol and dancing and Blaine chatting with what seemed to Kurt to be an endless number of fans. He had to hand it to mommy bloggers-they sure knew how to party.

Kurt was over by the bar, taking advantage of the free champagne, when he overheard Blaine talking to a lady in an obnoxiously shiny silver dress. "Is he your date?" she asked him, making a gesture in Kurt's general direction. Kurt's glass froze halfway to his mouth as he pretended he wasn't listening.

Blaine glanced over at him. "Him?" he asked, gesturing at Kurt, and then shook his head. "No, we're just..." something made him change his mind. "Yeah, I guess so."

Kurt's heart soared, and he downed the rest of his champagne, coming up behind Blaine and resting his hand on his lower back, whispering meaningfully in his ear, "I'm tired. Will you see me out?"

Blaine blinked, then nodded. "Excuse me," he said, smiling at the woman and following after Kurt. "Do you want me to take the cab with you?" he asked once they were outside.

Kurt suddenly felt slightly embarrassed. "Actually," he said, "I was hoping you would come back with me," he said.

If Blaine hesitated, it was just barely. "Let me get my stuff," he said.

"Your date, huh?" they were sprawled out on the sofa in their pajamas, their legs tangled together, and Kurt reached for Blaine's hand.

Blaine colored slightly. "You heard that?"

Kurt nodded. "What, you think one kiss makes me your date?" his eyes twinkled, and Blaine smiled, catching on. "Doesn't it?"

"No." Kurt shook his head. "But two does," he added, leaning over and kissing Blaine again.

Rachel nearly had a heart attack when she walked into Kurt's apartment the next morning and found Blaine in the foyer, tying his shoes.

"Hey, Rach," he said, lifting a hand in greeting. "I was just leaving, but it would be awesome to catch up-you should come to dinner with us tonight." and then he was gone, whistling cheerfully.

"Kurt!" she ran into the apartment, arms folded across her chest. "Did you and Blaine...?"

Kurt looked up from his coffee. "Hook up? No. He slept on the couch, actually."

Rachel poured herself a cup. "But he came over? He spent the night? What happened? How did it go?"

Kurt smiled, nodding. "After the party, we came back to the apartment and talked. And...when he showed up, I kind of kissed him."

"What?" Rachel nearly spit out her coffee. "You kind of..what?"

"Kissed him," Kurt repeated, looking utterly pleased with himself.

"Oh my god." Rachel crossed around the table to hug him. "What does that mean? Are you together again? Oh my God, Kurt, I don't even know what to say!"

Kurt laughed, shaking his head. "We decided we needed to think about it first," he explained. "Decide if that was really what we wanted, or if we were just kind of getting our emotions out."

"Well?" Rachel demanded. "Is that what you really want?"

But Kurt, infuriatingly, smiled and said nothing.

* * *

It felt simultaneously like far too long and not long enough on Tuesday afternoon when the time came for Blaine to go back to Westerville. He was dying to see Annika again, but he didn't want to leave Kurt. It had been hard enough the first time, but this time, it felt damn near impossible. Why did New York and Westerville have to be so damn far away? It wasn't like they were  _together_ , of course, but it still hurt like hell to leave him behind.

They had done a lot of talking, a lot of thinking and laughing and healing and, yes, a pretty healthy dose of kissing, and although they hadn't come to any conclusions about their future, Blaine had a pretty good feeling that it was going to be awesome.

Kurt brought him to the airport. They were silent on the drive there, Kurt obviously lost in thought and Blaine trying not to disturb him, and silent all the way into the terminal, which was when Blaine started to get a little nervous, trying to recall if he'd done anything wrong in the past 24 hours. He was just about to give Kurt a slightly awkward hug and slightly awkwardly tell him that he would call when he got home when Kurt took his hand. "Blaine," he said, and then took a deep breath. He had a look in his eyes that reminded Blaine vaguely of a baby bird he had found in his back yard when he was a little boy that had broken a wing and needed to be nursed back to health, and he reached up to cup the side of Kurt's face, which apparently gave him enough confidence to finish his sentence. "I think...I want to give us a try."

Blaine's face lit up, and he stepped forward to pull Kurt into a hug so tight he was fairly sure that he couldn't breathe. When he finally pulled back, he smiled warmly. "Yes," he agreed. "I think I do, too."

 


	10. Chapter 10

_Do you remember back in September when I said that maybe it would be easier if everyone married their first love? Without getting ahead of myself or saying something I might regret later, I might have been on to something there._

_These past 9 months have been very full. Not only in terms of our schedules, but emotionally, too. We have been through a lot of ups and downs and I feel like I've come out of it a better and happier person._

_I hope to be able to talk more about my current emotional state and my cryptic first paragraph, but I need to make sure that the other parties involved are comfortable with it first. Until then, I leave you with a video of Annika's first ever competitive dance recital. Her team placed second overall and are going on to compete at nationals at the end of the month. Can you believe she'll be seven next week? Me either._

Blaine published his post and sent a text to Kurt: "Skype date after Ani goes to bed?" The whole 'distance' thing was a lot harder than Blaine had thought it would be, but it was also a blessing-he knew that Kurt needed a lot of time, and this prevented them from doing anything they might regret in the future. He worried, sometimes, that the distance would give Kurt the temptation to do what he had done in the past, but he also knew that they were older now, and that Kurt had learned from his mistakes. He couldn't explain it, but he knew somehow that it would be okay this time.

"So you've been back with Blaine for three months now," Elena said. "How is it going?"

"Distance sucks," Kurt admitted. "But it's actually been pretty good. We see each other almost every night on Skype, and it feels really comfortable, like it's where I'm-where we're-supposed to be."

Elena smiled. "Distance is hard," she agreed. "But I think that's what you need for awhile, because it sets boundaries that you can't really push, because he's so far away."

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, that's what Blaine always says. It's been great, though, other than that. We talk about just about everything, and whenever we talk about the future it seems like we're on the same page. There's one thing, though." he ducked his head, a little ashamed. "His daughter."

Elena raised her eyebrows. "That's a pretty big one thing. What about his daughter?"

"I...I don't really like kids-I mean, I like them, but I've never seen myself having kids in my life."

Elena scribbled something on her pad. "Do you see having Blaine in your life?"

Kurt nodded. "Definitely."

"Then you have to somehow come to terms with the fact that his daughter is part of his life, too. You don't want to isolate her, because you'll isolate him. Have you eve talked about it?"

"With Blaine? No. I'm scared of what he'll say."

"Well, that goes both ways. If Blaine truly loves you and wants you in his life, he'll be understanding and most likely, he'll try to help you with those feelings. If you're scared to talk about them, that creates a breakdown in communication, and then your relationship is going to become unhealthy again, right?"

Kurt nodded again. "I guess so."

"So what you need to do," Elena said, "is talk to him. And if you need me, I'm always here."

Kurt stood, picking up his bag. "Thanks, Elena."

Elena smiled. "Any time."

It was late by the time he got home, after an impromptu dinner with some of his coworkers, and he called Blaine on Skype as soon as he got home, a sort of relief flooding him as Blaine's face filled his screen. "Hi baby!" he said. "How was your day?"

Kurt smiled. "Okay. Long. How was yours?"

"Long." Blaine grinned. "Anni's birthday party is this week, and I've been running around getting everything ready for that. She wants pony rides. Can you believe that? Pony rides."

Kurt laughed. "At least you have a big back yard."

"Yeah, that's what I figure. And then I had to take her to dance and drama and I feel like I've been moving pretty much nonstop all day."

"Yeah." Kurt nodded. "I felt that way, too. I had a meeting with some very uptight clients, and then I saw my therapist, and then on my way home I saw Sacha and Drew from work and we went out for pizza."

"Awesome. How did your therapist go?"

"Um, okay." Kurt was toying with how to bring up Annika when he realized that Blaine was talking again.

"Oh! I almost forgot. Annika's dance team made nationals, so we'll be in New York the last weekend of this month."

Kurt made a slightly strangled noise and recovered by smiling. "Wow, good for Annika!"

Blaine nodded. "So I was hoping that we could see each other again, and maybe...maybe I could introduce you to Annika? Not as my boyfriend if you don't think that's okay, but..." he trailed off, looking expectantly at Kurt, who nodded, swallowing hard. "That sounds great!" he said. "I can't wait."

Blaine beamed. "Me either, baby. I love you." he held up his hand, just the same way he did at the end of every Skype date, and Kurt couldn't help but smile, holding up his own hand. "I love you too," he replied. "Goodnight, baby."

They hung up, and Kurt took a deep breath. It would be easier to talk about this in person, after all, he thought, so maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. And anyway, he had liked Annika when he had met her before, so he probably had nothing to worry about. He could be a kid person if he really wanted to, and right now, he really, really wanted to.

"Annika, wake up," Blaine whispered, shaking Annika's shoulder.

Annika growled at him. "No," she grumbled, pulling her blankets around her shoulders.

Blaine gave her shoulder another gentle shake. "I know, I didn't want to wake up, either, but we have to drive to your dance school and get on the bus so we can go to New York, remember?"

Annika peered at him blearily. "New York?"

Blaine nodded. "For nationals, remember?"

Annika sat up. "Oh." she nodded. "I guess I can wake up for that."

Blaine laughed, ruffling her hair. "Good girl. Your clothes are on the end of your bed, and don't forget your suitcase."

Half an hour later, they were standing in the parking lot of Annika's dance school with five other equally sleepy-looking little girls and half-awake parents clutching Starbucks cups as if their lives depended on them.

"At least they'll sleep well on the plane," one of the parents remarked.

Blaine took a mouthful of coffee. "We can hope."

However, by the time the girls had been herded through security and onto the plane, they had forgotten that they were sleepy and excitement had set in, and for the rest of the flight they were six very hyper little girls and six barely-awake parents halfheartedly trying to make them be quiet.

They did, much to everyone's surprise, manage to make it to New York in one piece, and once they were checked into the hotel, the girls were herded off to their practice space and the parents were left to their own devices. This was when Blaine usually began feeling awkward. The dance parents were overwhelmingly female, and overwhelmingly blog readers, and sometimes when he had to engage with them face to face, Blaine felt more like a shiny new toy than a human being. He was about thirty seconds from being hauled into a cab and taken to some uptown hair salon to "consult" (Blaine had had the same hairstyle since he was fifteen, they were better off getting fashion consultation from a blind man with a mullet) when Kurt, as usual, swooped in, his saving grace. "you here yet?" he texted. "what hotel are you at? is Annika there? I'll pick you up."

Smiling, Blaine caught the arm of one of the ladies. "Jess, I've actually got plans. I'll catch up with you at the program, okay?"

Jess gave him a knowing look and nodded, dashing off to catch the cab, and Blaine pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Anni's at practice. We're at the paramount in times square. I'll be in the lobby. Love you."

"I'm going to lunch," Kurt called to Mona, grabbing his keys off the desk. "I'll be back in an hour or two."

"Okay, have fun," Mona called back. "I'll have Lila forward your calls?"

"Nah, don't bother, if it's an emergency they'd have my cell anyway. Just have them leave a message." Giving himself a once over in the mirror, he headed out into the late June sun, wishing he had grabbed his sunglasses, and flagged down a cab.

Blaine was dozing in one of the plush chairs in the Paramount lobby when Kurt arrived, and he gave his shoulder a gentle shake. "Wake up, sleepy head."

Blaine blinked up at him, then shook his head, trying to shake the sleep off. "Sorry. Long flight." he got to his feet and wrapped his arms around Kurt, leaning in up to press their lips together, his hands curling into fists in his shirt, oblivious to the stares of the rest of the people milling around the lobby. "Hi," he said, grinning goofily. "You look fantastic. I missed you."

Kurt regarded Blaine for a long moment, standing there with his slightly sleep-tousled hair, and felt a surge of deep, powerful love. He had never loved anybody as much as he loved Blaine, had always loved Blaine. He knew nobody blamed him, but god, he was stupid for giving this up. Taking his hand, he gave him another quick kiss. "Cab's waiting. What are you in the mood for?"

Half an hour later, they were sitting in a booth at Kurt's most favorite Thai restaurant in the entire city and possibly the world, and Kurt decided it was time to speak up. It was a lot easier, he realized, now that he had been face to face to Blaine. He knew exactly what he wanted now. "Blaine," he said, reaching for Blaine's hand. "I need to talk to you about something."

Blaine paused over his spring roll, a concerned look crossing his face. "What's the matter?" he asked, giving Kurt's hand a squeeze.

"Nothing." Kurt shook his head. "It's...well, Annika. See...I...I kind of...Greg made me programmed to think that I didn't really like kids, but...after I spent time with Finn's babies I realized that's not entirely true, but I'm going to need some time and patience before I can really be a 'stepfather' to Annika, you know, if it comes to that? I really want to have a good relationship with her, because I want you in my future, but I might need some patience, and to get to know her. Okay?" his eyes searched Blaine's face for any sign of resentment or rejection, but there was only a twinkle of something Kurt couldn't quite place in his eyes.

"Oh, is that all?" Blaine laughed. "Of course you'll need time to get to know her, Kurt! I mean, I have no doubt that she'll just love you, but of course we can take our time on that front. I wouldn't expect anything else."

Kurt relaxed visibly, picking his spoon up again. "I was so worried about that," he admitted with a little laugh, and Blaine patted his hand. "You never need to be scared to tell me things like that," he assured him. "I'm not Greg. I'm not going to try to manipulate you to do what I want you to do."

Kurt nodded. "I love you, Blaine."

Blaine leaned across the table to kiss him. "I love you, too, Kurt. And all of this talking about Annika reminded me, her performance is at 7, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?"

Kurt didn't even have to think about it. "I'd love to, but there's somewhere we need to go first."

Although he had not been on stage in well over a decade, Blaine still felt a little thrill when the lights went up, especially when it was his baby up there, and he gave Kurt's hand a little squeeze. "There's my baby," he murmured, and Kurt smiled, kissing the side of his head.

They danced beautifully, nobody misstepped or tripped or giggled, and Blaine had never been so proud of his daughter. Although he knew it mattered to them, it didn't matter to him if they won or not-they were clearly the best.

"Daddy!" Annika came barreling out of the dressing room toward Blaine, half-dressed, her hair askew, practically scaling him. "Did we win? Did we?"

Blaine scooped her up, kissing her nose. "I don't know yet, baby. We can go find out in a minute, but first, there's someone I want you to meet." he gestured to Kurt, who was hovering awkwardly just outside of the crowd. "This is daddy's friend Kurt," he said. "He came to watch you, and, if you're okay with that, you and I are going to stay in New York for a little while after your friends go home and spend a little more time with him. What do you think?"

Annika stared dubiously. "You're the man from the magazine," she accused.

Kurt bent down to her level, smiling. "That's right, I am. Good memory."

Annika folded her arms across her chest. "I don't like you," she informed him.

Kurt gave Blaine a helpless look, and Blaine touched Annika's shoulder. "I know you think that Kurt was mean to daddy, but we're friends now, and he would like to be your friend, too. Do you think you could give him a chance?"

"I brought you a present," Kurt added, handing her the stuffed bear in dance clothes he had bought for her. "For doing such a good job dancing."

Annika accepted the bear, still wary. "You better be nice to my daddy," she said. "If you aren't, I will be mean to you."

Blaine ruffled her hair. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, sweetheart. Now let's go meet up with your team and see if you won a prize, okay?"

Annika gave Kurt one last dubious look and then took off toward her friends, Kurt and Blaine trailing behind.

It felt like an agonizingly long time for the announcer to read off the top ten teams, and by the time they read off number five, the girls were not only bored, tired, and hungry, but they had also given up any hope of getting a trophy.

Annika climbed into Blaine's lap, resting her head against his chest. "I want to leave," she said.

Blaine played with her hair. "Why? Maybe they didn't call your name because you won first place."

Annika was unconvinced. "Maybe."

Blaine kissed the top of her head. "Now listen, they're going to read the top three."

"Number three, from Newton, Massachusetts, Unimotion! Number two, from Orlando, Florida, Dancenterprise! And this year's national competitive dance squad champions are...from Westerville, Ohio...inMotion!"

There was a moment of complete silence, a little confused muttering, and then complete and utter chaos. The girls were hugging each other and screaming and jumping up and down, tripping all over themselves as they made their way back to the stage to get their trophy.

"They won!" Blaine was shouting, jumping up and down, causing almost as much calamity as the little girls, tears in his eyes. "Kurt, they won! My baby won! They won for the  _whole_ _country_!"

Kurt couldn't help feeling his own swell of pride and happiness as he watched Blaine and, especially Annika, who had worked so hard and was being rewarded for it. He could get used to this, he thought. Family life might be right for him after all.

 


	11. Combinations

_You took me back to that place in my heart I thought was gone_

_Oh so long, I was unhappy, now it's gone and I'm moving on_

_Moving on, moving on, I'm moving on_

_I went for so long_

_And I was so wrong_

_And then I met you and now I can't live without you_

_And I don't want to_

_I've done that all my life up til now._

~Eisley,  _Combinations_

"You're really going." David stood in the living room, now empty except for a few errant dust bunnies that seemed to refuse to be swept.

Blaine nervously kicked at one of the dust bunnies. "I really am," he replied, glancing around. They had lived in this house almost three years, he and Annika-it was the first (and only) big thing he'd bought when the blog got big. And it had been a good house, a home, even, full of more good memories than bad, and Blaine knew he would miss it, but soon, it would be filled with other people's things, other people's memories, and it was time for Blaine and Annika to go make some new memories.

"I'm going to miss you," he added, wrapping an arm around David. "But we've got to go make some new memories, and it's not like I'm just going to...abandon you. You're my family."

David stepped back, all business, although Blaine knew it was only because he was trying not to cry, and Blaine hugged him again. "Let's go get the kids. We're going to be late."

Rachel and Kurt were waiting in the still-empty apartment when Blaine and Annika (finally) arrived. Annika had spent most of the flight crying that she'd changed her mind, that she wanted to go back and live with Lila and Max, that she wasn't ready to leave her friends yet, and the only way he could convince her to even get on the plane was to promise that Rachel would be there waiting for him. As he unlocked the door to the apartment, he was wondering if he could somehow get Rachel there within the next five minutes, but a joyful shriek from Annika interrupted his thoughts. " _Rachel_!" she squealed, flinging herself at her. "What are you doing here?"

Blaine set their carry ons down, immediately going to hug Kurt tight. "Yeah," he echoed, "What  _are_ you doing here?" Not that he was complaining, wrapping his arms around Kurt, burying his head against his shoulder. Yes, this was exactly where he belonged, he thought. This had been the right decision.

"We thought you could use a little help unpacking," Rachel explained, gently extricating Annika's arms from around her neck.

"And I couldn't wait to see you," Kurt added, tilting Blaine's face up to kiss him.

" _Stop_ _it_ ," Annika and Rachel said in unison, which only served to make Kurt kiss him harder, playing it up.

"Boys are gross," Annika remarked, squeezing her eyes shut and making a face.

Rachel ruffled her hair sympathetically. "Let's just hope you feel that way forever, kiddo."

Annika looked up at her. "Don't worry, I will," she said. "Can I sleep at your house tonight?"

Rachel glanced over at Kurt and Blaine, who had graduated from kissing to simply holding each other close, whispering sweet nothings to each other. "I think," she said, "That sounds like a perfect idea."

"I can't believe you finally made it," Kurt said over dinner, twirling fettucine on his fork at the Italian restaurant down the block from his apartment that had, over the course of the past six months, become their favorite date spot when Blaine was in the city.

"Me either," Blaine admitted, reaching for Kurt's hand across the table. "I'm so glad that I did. It feels so incredibly good to be here with you. I love you."

"I love you," Kurt echoed. "And I've got a feeling we're going to have a great life together."

Almost absently, Blaine touched the cuff at his wrist. "Me too," he agreed, picking up his fork.

Kurt watched him for a minute, almost shyly, and then said, the words tumbling out fast, as if they were teenagers, as if it was their first time again, "Annika's at Rachel's for the night, and...you don't have any furniture, so..."

Blaine looked up, his eyes sparkling. "I would love to spend the night with you."

It seemed unusually quiet in Kurt's apartment when they finally- _finally_ -arrived after dinner, and Blaine found himself not quite knowing what to do with himself until Kurt finally pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him, low on his hips.

"I haven't done this in...a long time," Blaine admitted.

Kurt pressed a kiss to his neck. "Do you think you still remember?" he asked, teasingly.

Blaine smiled. "I think I'll manage," he replied, pressing himself close to Kurt, smiling when he felt him shiver.

"Good," Kurt whispered, taking his hand and leading him toward the bedroom.

Blaine woke up smiling, his arm flung around Kurt, who was curled up like a parenthesis. "Kurt," he whispered. "Wake up."

Kurt stirred, rolling closer. "Time's it?" he mumbled sleepily.

Blaine glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "8:30," he reported. "I told Rachel we'd pick Annika up at 11, and maybe..." he ran his hands over Kurt's chest. "We could get some more practice in before then."

Kurt smiled sleepily, rolling over to kiss Blaine on the mouth. "You think so, hm?"

Blaine nodded, pulling Kurt in so their bodies were pressed flush together. "I do."

"Daddy!" Annika came flying at Blaine, attaching herself to him (a year ago, he thought, she would have been attaching herself to his leg. Now it was more like his waist). "Daddy! Me and Rachel went to the American Girl restaurant and she took me  _to_ _her_ _work_ and then the makeup lady and the hair lady gave me a  _makeover_ and then we stayed up  _really_ _late_ putting on a talent show!"

"Wow." Blaine looked impressed. "That sounds like so much fun!"

"It was," she nodded. "It was the best night  _ever_!"

Rachel handed Blaine Annika's little pink suitcase, giving he and Kurt a meaningful look. "Maybe next Saturday, we can do it again," she suggested, and Annika's face lit up. "Really?" she asked, eyes shining.

Rachel nodded. "Of course. I need my girl time, you know, when I spend so much time with  _boys_ like your dad and Kurt."

Annika looked eagerly at Blaine. "Can I, daddy?"

Blaine and Kurt exchanged another glance, trying not to crack up. "Of course, baby," Blaine said finally. "After all, girl time is  _very_ important."

"Yay!" Annika cheered, running over to give Rachel a hug. "Bye Rachel, I love you, see you next Saturday!"

"We owe you, Rachel," Blaine said, giving her a quick hug as they turned to leave. " _Big_ _time_."

Rachel smiled knowingly. "You don't. Girl time, remember?"

Moving to New York, Blaine thought, was turning out to be an even better idea than he thought it would be.

_It's been a week since we made the big move to the Big City, and as you can see, we have undergone yet another identity crisis, this one at the request of Annika. Confessions of Annika's Gay Dad is now The Adventures of Blaine, Annika, and Kurt. Pretty catchy, don't you think?_

_We_ _'_ _re_ _settling_ _in_ _pretty_ _nicely_ _to_ _life_ _here_ _in_ _the_ _Big_ _City._ _Annika_ _absolutely_ _loves_ _everything_ _about_ _life_ _here,_ _and_ _I_ _'_ _m_ _definitely_ _following_ _in_ _her_ _footsteps._ _It_ _'_ _s_ _been_ _a_ _long_ _time_ _since_ _I_ _experienced_ _city_ _life,_ _and_ _her_ _learning_ _curve_ _is_ _definitely_ _smaller_ _than_ _mine,_ _but_ _I_ _wouldn_ _'_ _t_ _change_ _it_ _for_ _the_ _world._ _Annika_ _is_ _loving_ _her_ _weekly_ _girls_ _'_ _nights_ _with_ _our_ _sweet_ _friend_ _Rachel_ _and_ _Kurt_ _and_ _I_ _are_ _enjoying_ _the_ _time_ _that_ _offers_ _us_ _(parents,_ _you_ _ **know**_ _what_ _I_ _mean!),_ _and_ _we_ _'_ _re_ all  _enjoying_ _the_ _last_ _lazy_ _days_ _of_ _summer_ _here_ _in_ _our_ _new_ _home._

"Daddy." Annika climbed into Blaine's bed one morning, two weeks before the start of school. "I don't want to go to school."

Blaine blinked sleepily. "You have to go to school, baby. You're going to make lots of new friends, and remember, there's a pool."

Annika pouted. "I don't want a pool. I want my old friends."

Blaine stroked Annika's hair. "I know it's a little hard, baby, but your friends will always be a great part of your memories of Westerville, and now it's time to make new memories here, okay? With Daddy and Kurt and Rachel, and all the new friends you haven't met yet at school."

Annika wrinkled her forehead. "What if the kids think I'm weird?" she whispered.

Blaine frowned. "Where did you hear that? Who told you that?" he asked.

"Nobody." Annika curled closer to Blaine. "But what if they do, Daddy?"

"Nobody is going to think you're weird," Blaine insisted. "Nobody worth anything, anyway. Everybody is going to think you're smart and sweet and wonderful, and they're going to want to be your friends. And the people who don't just aren't worth the energy, okay?"

Annika's breathing was slowing, already settling back to sleep. "Okay," she agreed peacefully.

Blaine kissed the top of her head. "And maybe this afternoon, you and I can go shopping for school supplies," he suggested.

Annika smiled sleepily. "With Kurt?" she asked.

Blaine nodded. "Kurt might be working, but I'll call him when we wake up again and ask him, okay?"

Annika popped her thumb in her mouth. "He better not be working," she mumbled, drifting off to sleep again.

* * *

"I'm on my way out." Kurt tucked his phone in his pocket. "Annika needs school supplies."

Mona set a pile of papers down on Kurt's desk, notes from one of the junior journalists' last article. "When did you get all domestic?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Love makes you do crazy things." He smiled. "I'll deal with this on Monday." He gestured to the papers.

"We have a staff meeting at four thirty," Mona tried again.

Kurt waved. "Send me the minutes tonight."

"Kurt!" Annika threw herself at him, and he couldn't help grinning at the way she  _always_  seemed to do that, like a puppy, thrilled beyond any possible imagining just to see him. "You got here!"

"I did!" Kurt kissed her forehead, and then whispered conspiratorially, "It's a good thing you invited me. Your daddy isn't as good at shopping."

Annika giggled, and Blaine came up behind them with the cart. "Are you two talking about me?" he asked, smiling, and Annika shook her head, putting on her  _I_ _am_ _the_ _best_ _little_ _girl_ _in_ _the_ _world_ face. "No!" she insisted. "We would  _never_ do that, Daddy."

"Yeah, yeah," Blaine replied, affectionately. "Okay, here's the list. Let's get going, and then when we're finished, maybe we can go out for dinner. What do you think?"

Annika nodded enthusiastically. "I want pizza."

Blaine held out his hand for Kurt to hold. "Sounds good to me," he agreed.

* * *

That night, Blaine laid down with Annika as he was putting her to bed for the first time since she was very, very small. "I want to have a conversation with you," she had said, and they snuggled up in her bed, string up at the ceiling, chatting about everything and nothing.

"Daddy," she said just as she began to drift off. "I like having Kurt."

Blaine held her little hand, studying her manicured nails, smiling. "I like having him, too."

"But daddy," she added, "I'm scared."

"You're scared?" Blaine asked, sitting up a little. "Scared of Kurt?"

Annika shook her head. "I'm scared that if you and Kurt get married, you'll love me less."

"Annika." Blaine held her close. "Annika, no. Daddy will always love you more than anything in the whole world. I have lots of room in my heart for you  _and_  Kurt."

Annika popped her thumb in her mouth, and Blaine gently removed it. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Positive," Blaine assured her. "You're my only girl. I'm never going to stop loving you, not for anything."

She snuggled in close, her breathing evening out. "As long as you  _promise_ ," she mumbled sleepily.

"I do," Blaine promised. "Now go to sleep. You and Rachel are going to have a busy night tomorrow."

But Annika was already asleep.

* * *

"You've got furniture now," Kurt remarked as he slipped off his shoes in Blaine's apartment. "Oh, and no more boxes!"

"I was tired of you teasing me about the boxes." Blaine kicked off his own shoes, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist, kissing his shoulder. "I thought they were perfectly acceptable as coffee tables, thank you very much."

"Oh yes." Kurt turned so he could wrap his arms around Blaine, kiss him soundly, drag him back toward the sofa. "I expect  _Architectural_ _Digest_ will run an article on the use of moving boxes as coffee tables any day now."

"Yup," Blaine replied, "And they're going to interview me about it."

Kurt laughed, his wonderful, warm laugh that sent little shivers up Blaine's spine, filled him with joy. "I'm sure they will, baby." He fell back on the sofa, pulling Blaine on top of him, kissing him deeply, his hands running over his back, under his shirt. "Right now," he added, "I think it's time to break in this couch."

Blaine smiled into the kiss, letting Kurt pull his shirt off, tugging at Kurt's own. "I think," he replied, "That is a fantastic idea."

 


	12. I Love You and I Don't Know What To Say

_We belong here_

_We belong here_

_There ain't nobody that can tell us we're wrong_

_Hear me say, say this to you_

_I'll stand by your side and see you through_

_I promise you that I will keep you safe from harm_

_Love you all the rest of my days_

_When the night is silent and we seem so far away_

_I love you and I don't know what to say._

~Ryan Adams, " _I_ _Love_ _You_ _And_ _I_ _Don't_ _Know_ _What_ _To_ _Say_ _"_

"Teeth brushed?" Kurt asked. "Face washed? Hair done? Moisturizer applied?"

Annika gave him a blank look, and Kurt tsked, going to the medicine cabinet and coming back with a little tub of moisturizer, gently rubbing it into her cheeks. "There. *Now* you're ready for your first day of second grade."

Blaine chose that moment to walk into the bathroom, looking amused. "Only you would put moisturizer on a seven year old," he said affectionately, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist.

"It is never too early for a good facial care regime," Kurt replied. "Right, Anni?"

"Sure," Annika replied skeptically. "Can we go now?"

Blaine kissed Kurt's cheek, then let go. "Yeah, we should, before we miss the bus. Your backpack and shoes are on the counter, let me get the camera..." he scurried off, and Kurt took Annika's hand, leading her back into the kitchen to finish getting ready. He wasn't sure how he had ended up spending more time at Blaine's apartment, even during the week, but it worked, and he loved helping parent Annika, loved being part of a family, and Blaine and Annika weren't sick of him yet, so he counted this as a good thing.

He was helping Annika with her shoes when Blaine returned with the camera, snapping away. "Are you going to put this on your blog?" he asked affectionately, grabbing Annika's backpack and handing it to her.

"Of course," he said. "Okay, ready?" he tucked the camera into its case, taking the hand that Kurt wasn't holding, heading down to the bus stop.

They managed to get Annika to school with only minor tears (on Blaine's part) and then they parted ways, Kurt heading to work and Blaine heading back home to write. "I'll come by after work," Kurt promised, wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck.

"Are you spending the night?" Blaine asked, and Kurt nodded. "That was the plan. I have to grab some stuff from my apartment first, but I'll be back in time for dinner." he spotted a cab, flagging it down.

"You know that we could solve this if you would just move in," Blaine called as Kurt got in the cab.

"We'll see," Kurt called through the open window, blowing Blaine a kiss as the cab sped away.

"How was your day?" Blaine held out Annika's jacket for her to stick her arms through. "Did you make lots of new friends?"

"Where's Kurt?" Annika wanted to know, pulling her coat on.

"At work," Blaine replied, laughing. "How was your day, Anni?"

"Oh." Annika shrugged. "It was good. I'm in the Sunflower group. I ate lunch with a girl named Annabella and then we played with her friends at recess. We did music and art and gym and science and humanities but we just met our teachers."

"That sounds great!" Blaine enthused. "I'm glad you're making friends!"

Annika nodded absently, pulling on her backpack and reaching up for Blaine's hand. "It would have been better if Kurt came to pick me up," she grumbled, which made Blaine smile and rumple her hair (much to her chagrin) and then reach for her hand. "Kurt had to work," he said reasonably. "Why don't we go get him some coffee and surprise him at work?"

Annika considered this, deciding it was a reasonable tradeoff, and accepted Blaine's proffered hand. "Okay," she agreed. "Let's do that."

* * *

Kurt was absolutely up to his eyeballs in work and other, rather more important, things to read when he heard someone tap on his office door. "Come in," he called, quickly minimizing The Knot's page of proposal tips, pulling his glasses off his head and trying to look busy.

"Surprise!" Blaine's voice startled him, and he looked up to find Annika, clutching a drink tray, and Blaine, hovering behind her in case of spills.

"We brought you a drink," Annika chirped, setting the drink tray carefully on Kurt's desk and extricating his drink to hand it to him.

Kurt smiled, leaning forward to kiss Annika's cheek and then standing to hug Blaine and kiss him. "What a nice surprise," he said, taking a sip of his drink, "and this is perfect."

Annika beamed with pride, and Kurt smiled at her, getting an idea. "Blaine," he requested, "Can you go find Mona and ask her if the McLellan article is ready?She'll know what I'm talking about."

Blaine looked momentarily confused, but nodded and turned to leave, Annika making a move like she was going to follow him until Kurt pulled her back, whispering something in her ear. Her eyes got wide, but she nodded, and when Blaine was gone, she dutifully went to shut Kurt's office door, looking expectantly up at him.

Taking a deep breath, Kurt bent down until he was at her level, his hands on her shoulders. "Anni," he said, "Tonight, I'm going to ask your dad to marry me."

Annika's face lit up, and she gasped with excitement, and Kurt continued, "Is that okay with you?"

Annika nodded vigorously, practically bouncing with the sheer excitement of the prospect, and Kurt continued. "Okay. You have to keep it a secret, understand? When we get out of here, we're going to go to my apartment, and your daddy is going to go home. You've got a big job, you have to help me with the flowers. And then we're going to go back to your apartment and you're going to get your daddy to sit in the living room and then I'm going to ask him, okay? It's very important for you to do that so everything is just perfect, do you think you can do that?"

Annika nodded solemnly, and Kurt smiled, kissing her cheek. "I knew I could depend on you."

Annika nodded again, and suddenly her face lit up like she'd just had a brilliant thought. "Kurt," she said, "Does this mean you'll be my dad too?"

Kurt smiled again, nodding. "I guess it will."

Annika wrapped her arms tight around him. "I always wanted two daddies," she said against his neck.

Kurt hugged her tight. "I always wanted a little girl like you."

"I'm going to bring Annika back to my apartment with me when I go to pick up my stuff," Kurt said as Blaine walked back into his office. "So if you want to head back home, Anni and I will meet you at your place at 6:30?"

Blaine glanced over at Annika, who was perched in her very own 'spinny chair' next to Kurt, wearing a pair of sunglasses she had found in a desk drawer, pretending to work on Kurt's iPad. "Are you sure? I don't want to leave her here if she's going to be trouble."

Under her sunglasses, Annika rolled her eyes, and Kurt shook his head. "She's perfect," he assured him. "Right, Annika?"

Annika looked at Kurt over the top of her sunglasses, one eyebrow arched. "I'm  _working_ ," she informed him, and Kurt struggled to keep a straight face. "See?" he told Blaine. "Perfect. We'll see you when we get there." he stood up to kiss Blaine lightly. "Love you."

"Love you," Blaine echoed, then kissed Annika on the cheek. "Be good, baby. Listen to Kurt."

Annika gave him a death glare. "I'm  _working_ , Daddy."

"Right." Blaine nodded seriously. "Okay, my little worker bees. See you when you get home."

Once Blaine was gone, Kurt held out his fist for a fist bump. "He doesn't suspect a thing."

Annika gave him a  _look_. " _Working_."

"Right." Kurt smiled, giving his own work one last look over. "Well, finish up, because we've got more important things to do tonight."

* * *

Blaine was setting the table when Annika and Kurt finally arrived, and he smiled, padding out into the front room to greet them. "Hi," he said, "How was work?"

"Sit down!" Annika demanded, thrusting the flowers she'd been carrying for Kurt at him, and Kurt momentarily hid his face behind his hands so she wouldn't be able to tell that he was laughing at her. "... _please_."

"What's this about?" Blaine asked, eyes twinkling with boyish delight, fussing with the flowers, and for the first time, Kurt felt a little scared.

"Sit down," he said, a little gentler than Annika had. "We have something to ask you." Once Blaine was sitting, he knelt in front of him, withdrawing from his pocket the ring he'd been hanging onto for thirteen years and suddenly finding himself lost for words. "Blaine...I...that is, um." cursing himself for losing the speech he had spent so much time rehearsing in the mirror, he settled for holding the ring out to him. "Blaine, will you marry me?"

There was a moment of silence, Blaine with an unreadable expression on his face and Annika practically vibrating with excitement in the background, and Kurt was sure, in that moment, that Blaine was going to say no. It was too soon—despite Kurt's careful calculation of  _this_ date in particular—he had done something wrong, Blaine had changed his mind about them. But then, just as soon as the moment had begun, it was over, and Blaine had his arms flung around Kurt's neck, sobbing, nodding, repeating "Yes, yes, yes, yes yes," over and over, hugging Kurt so tightly he was certain he would never let go, Annika working her way in to hug them both, and it didn't surprise Kurt when he felt tears on his own face, his fingers shaking as he slid the ring onto Blaine's finger and then taking his face in his hands and kissing him.

"Ew," Annika said, wrinkling her nose, and Blaine pulled away, laughing, to admire the ring. "Let's go eat dinner," he suggested, leaning in to whisper in Kurt's ear, "We'll get back to that later," before gesturing for both of them to follow him into the dining room.

After what felt like a thousand "one-last-stories" and a couple hundred good night kisses, Kurt finally emerged from Annika's bedroom, letting the door click softly behind him, flopping down next to Blaine, who set his laptop on the floor and wrapped his arms around him, kissing him deeply. "She sleeping?" he asked, his fingers already pulling Kurt's shirt out.

Kurt nodded, pressing a kiss against Blaine's jaw, his own hands going up under Blaine's shirt.

Blaine paused, then, resting his forehead against Kurt's. "We're...really going to do this?" he asked, his eyes searching Kurt's face.

Kurt nodded. "For real, this time," he promised. "Forever and always."

Blaine seemed to relax. "Good," he said, nodding and kissing Kurt hard. "Good, because I love you and I never want to live without you again."

"You won't have to," Kurt promised, taking Blaine's hand and leading him to bed.

* * *

_As if this year didn't come with enough bombshells, I have some more news!_

_I'm getting married! Or really, I guess, Kurt and I are getting married, since he's part of this blog too._

_I never thought I would get married again. I never thought that there would ever be a time when I felt like I loved someone enough to marry them, not after all of the things I'd been through. I owed it to Annika, and I owed it to myself._

_But it's funny—a year ago yesterday, I made a post, and I'm going to copy that post here:_

_Nobody marries their first love. Okay, maybe some people do, but most people don't even have a long term relationship with their first love, let alone get married to them and be with them forever._

_And that's just the way life goes. We are flighty, awful creatures, us humans, and when we get bored with one thing-or one person-we move on to the next. Of course eventually we find the person we want to settle down with for the rest of our lives-or think we want to settle down with, anyway-and get married and maybe have a kid or two or twenty. And sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn't, and that, too, is the way life goes._

_Sometimes I think it would be easier if we all just married our first love. Not the person you were crazy for for months and they ignored you and completely crushed your heart, but that first person who made you feel like maybe this whole love thing could work for you after all, the first person who filled your heart and soul with more happiness and completeness than you even knew could exist. I mean, they were the first person to make you feel that way, after all, so that has to account for something, doesn't it?_

_Do you know why that's funny? Because I am marrying my first love. It may have taken us a long time to get here, and it may not be the fairytale happily-ever-after I daydreamed about when we were teenagers, but I'm marrying him. And this time, we're going to get it right._

Blaine hit publish on the post, humming happily, and then checked the time. Kurt was picking Annika up from school, and Rachel was taking them out for a celebratory dinner after she got out of rehearsals, so Blaine found himself with two hours with nothing to do. He had just sat down with one of the wedding magazines he had (rather guiltily) bought that morning when he dropped Annika off at school when the phone rang.

" _Are_ _you_ _out_ _of_ _you r_ _mind_?"

"Um...hi to you too, Nina?" he flipped through the magazine, pondering over a color scheme of blue and green.

"What made you  _think_ that you could do that?"

Oh shit. Blaine sighed. "Nina, I am a-"

"-What made you think that you could just  _publish_ _a_ _post_ _about_ _getting_ _engaged_ _without_ _first_ _texting_ _me_ _the_ _ **second**_ _that_ _ring_ _was_ _on_ _your_ _finger?_ And you call yourself my  _best_ _friend,_ Blaine Anderson!"

Blaine let out his breath in a little laugh. "Sorry. I guess I just kind of got overzealous."

"I can't believe he asked you to marry him!" Nina's voice was shrill, excited, and it sent a little thrill of excitement through Blaine, too. "Did you have any idea beforehand or was it a surprise?"

"Total surprise." Blaine stuck a sticky note on a page full of wedding cakes. "I...not that I didn't want him to, just that I thought that we weren't  _there_ yet. I mean, I've been there for a long, long time, but I thought maybe he'd never get there."

"Well, I'm glad he finally came around. I'm happy for you. I might not be your publicist anymore, but I'm still your friend. I expect to know everything!"

"Of course. I'm going to need  _someone_ to help me plan this thing."

"I'm sure Kurt will have that under control, but if you need anything, just call me. I love you!"

"Love you too." Blaine hung up the phone, flipping the magazine shut. He needed to go get ready for dinner.

* * *

"I still can't believe it," Rachel said as they settled in at their table. "This is  _only_ the wedding we've been planning since eleventh grade, and here we finally are."

Blaine pushed Annika's chair in and then took a seat next to Kurt, reaching for his hand. Kurt smiled, giving Blaine's hand a squeeze. "I was sure he was going to say no," he admitted. "I almost didn't take the chance."

Blaine looked over at Kurt with a look that would have probably made Annika make throwing-up noises if she hadn't been completely preoccupied with the iPad. "I'm glad you took the chance," he said. "I love you so much."

"I love you." Kurt leaned over and kissed Blaine, which was exactly the moment Annika chose to look up. "Ewww," she said. "Parents are icky."

"I agree. I'll distract them." Rachel tapped her fork on her wine glass. "A toast," she said. "To old loves, and new beginnings. To getting lost just to find your way again. To never giving up hope. To family. To forever."

Blaine and Kurt raised their glasses. "To forever," they echoed, then kissed again, much to Annika's chagrin.

Rachel wrapped her arms around her in a hug. "I tried," she sighed, "But I guess there's just no stopping the power of their love."

"I just wish they wouldn't  _kiss_ so much," Annika sighed, turning her attention back to the iPad.

Blaine looked up. "Anni," he said, "Did I ever tell you the story of the first time Kurt and I ever met?"

Annika shook her head, looking curiously at him. "You didn't meet when he came from the magazine?" she asked, interested now.

"Nope." Blaine shook his head. "It was a long, long time ago, when we were still kids, and I was going to school with Uncle David and Uncle Wes. One day, a new boy came to school. A boy named Kurt. And I didn't know it at the time, but we were going to fall hopelessly in love..."

* * *

Blaine slid his laptop under the bed, reaching for Kurt, drawing him into his arms. "I'm so glad I decided not to ask for another journalist," he said, playing idly with Kurt's hair. "I don't know why I did, but I'm so glad I decided to take a chance."

"I'm so glad I decided to come back for Christmas that year," Kurt replied. "I'm so glad that I got some sense smacked into me before it was too late."

"I always knew you were my soulmate." Blaine kissed the top of Kurt's head. "I always knew this would happen, somehow."

Kurt made a happy humming noise. "You were always silly romantic like that."

"And you always loved it." Blaine closed his eyes, already starting to drift off. "...does this mean you're moving in now?"

Kurt laughed. "Yes. This means I'm moving in now. Go to sleep, Blaine."

Blaine nodded, his breathing getting slow and even. "Goodnight, I love you," he mumbled.

"I love you too," Kurt replied, but Blaine was already asleep, dreaming about the rest of forever.

 


End file.
